


Timey-Wimey Fix-It 2.0

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddling Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Destiel - Freeform, Friends to Lovers, M/M, No Smut, Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Slow Burn, Time Travel, Touch-Starved Dean Winchester, implied destiel until last quarter, isnt destiel until last quarter, lots of fluff, lots of hugging, mostly adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:21:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24707503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Chuck is a major pain-in-the-ass who enjoys his television shows, specifically the ones involving his favorite hunting familyPre-Season 15 (so Chuck isn't evil just annoying and slightly malevolent, and they havent met Kevin's ghost yet)
Relationships: Alan J. Corbett/Ed Zeddmore, Bobby Singer & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Kudos: 69





	Timey-Wimey Fix-It 2.0

Discovering that Kevin Tran had, in fact, not been in heaven this whole time, infuriated Dean Winchester. Kevin had done nothing to deserve the deal he had been dealt in life, and then in the veil, and now permanently in death, in an afterlife reserved for bad people or those who dealt with demons to be tortured for eternity.

Kevin had been tortured enough in life, so why the hell was he being tortured now? He didn't deserve it, god dammit that kid deserved so much better.

"Dean, let's be rational."

"Okay, Cass, well I would like to punch God in the nads, rationally, then."

Cass had been trying to calm down a very furious Dean, after telling him what he learned about Kevin's demise. Sam was out on a hunt with Eileen who called them for some help, and Dean had yet to tell him what Castiel told him.

It had been a mistake, Castiel had been doing some "hunting" practice with Dean, which was just the two of them summoning crossroads demons and killing them off. It was something Sam and Dean had wanted to do for a long time, to help slow the demon-deal-soul intake. And Cass really liked that hunting, he didn't have to rely on people skills or cons and disguises. It wasn't a puzzle they had to solve, just a demon to find and kill.

One particularly chatty and self-preservational demon named Kokabiel had been hell-bent on not becoming hell-bound, and asked if there was anything he could offer the hunter and the angel, and when they turned him down, he offered up his own tidbit of information he thought they might appreciate.

Note for all demons, don't tell Dean Winchester something he doesn't want to hear in hopes it will save your ass. It won't. 

Kokabiel seemed like an idiot, so Castiel went to see if he was right. To the demon's credit, he really had been trying to save his hide, because he had been telling the truth. And now, here Dean was, pacing in the bunker, threatening God. A normal evening for them.

"Dean, you know how fragile Chuck's ego is. If you try to find him, which I'll remind you has always proven impossible, it won't do you any good once you have. He'll just do what he always does, make jokes and shrug a lot before disappearing again." 

Dean hated to admit that Cass was right about this. Cass was usually right and he would hand him that freely, but when it came to Dean's rage issues it was a bit harder.

He sighed and finally sat down, which made Cass sigh a little bit in relief. It didn't go unnoticed by Dean, who decided to let Cass have a breather before dropping his dumb plan on him. He really didn't want his best friend to be so worried about him, but that seemed unavoidable, when your best friend is an angel designed to protect humanity, and his best friend is a hot headed martyr.

"I've got to at least try." His voice was softer, trying to ward off a Cass he knew would get frustrated. And he was, Cass took a long loud breath in through his nose, and he furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head ever so slightly. It was one of many Castiel trademarked expressions that Dean had mastered reading. This one was a Dean, don't even start with me look, not to be confused with the look it morphed into which was a solid you know damn well this won't end how we want. Maybe it was depressing that Castiel had those looks so often.

But, while Dean was thoroughly chastised by Cass's expressions, Cass didn't actually say anything, both knowing that saying anything wouldn't stop Dean and it would just make them argue, and neither of them were the enemy here. So Castiel simply watched and tried not to roll his eyes as Dean folded his hands together and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Dear our heavenly douchebag dad," Dean started out strong. He could hear Castiel's sharp breath but continued. "You lied to our faces. Not cool. We need to talk to you right now, so don't be an ass, and hear us out!" He opened one eye, but it wasn't expectantly. They both knew this was a long shot, yet Dean continued. "Come on you son of a bitch! You sent Kevin to hell!"

"Technically I didn't send him to hell." Both of the men spun around to see Chuck standing only a few feet from them. He was wearing jeans and converse as usual, but he was also wearing a button up shirt and his beard was groomed nicely, as though he put in just a little effort. "Yes, I expelled him from the veil, but that's about all I did."

Dean quickly went to stand, but Chuck didn't meet the mood of the room as he sat down in a different chair and propped his feet on the table.

"But why is Kevin Tran in hell?" Castiel asked, his normal growly voice managing to actually come out aggressively, which Dean knew was hard for him. Cass usually didn't outright challenge his father, he always treated him with respect, at least to his face. "He was a prophet of the Lord!"

"And I'm the Lord, yes I'm aware Castiel." Chuck waved his hand through the air. "But you know that it isn't me who decides where souls go anymore. Remember Anubis? Guy with that abacus who weighs people's fates?"

"But why the hell did Kevin not make the cut?" Dean countered angrily. Of all the deities they had met, Anubis hadn't been the worst. He was civil and objective, and he didn't want to kill the Winchesters, which was rare. And he knew that Anubis didn't control the damn abacus, so he was getting annoyed that Chuck was shifting the blame to him as though somehow it was his fault.

"Well clearly some demons had it out for the guy and they snatched his soul off the upwards elevator." Chuck shrugged. "Happens."

Castiel audibly gulped, a nervous panic rising in his chest. He didn't even need to turn to Dean to know that Chuck's apathy snapped something in him, and he instinctively reached out to grab his shoulder, as if he could rein him back. But Dean had already marched up to where Chuck was sitting, and Cass could see his hands in fists and his face as red as the flames Cass could feel coming out of his ears.

"Happens. Huh. It just happens." Dean's voice was dryly cheerful and Cass could feel his stomach drop to his feet. Dean let out a cold laugh. "You hear that Cass? Kevin's in hell, just cause. It happens. It just fucking happens!" He slammed his fist down on the corner of the table and a loud crack erupted from the contact. Cass cringed, knowing that Dean may be strong enough to crack the table in his anger but there was no way he did that without fracturing a bone. To his credit, Dean didn't react in any way, and it took all of Castiel's self control not to run in between them and heal Dean's hand.

Chuck stood up and stared into Dean's eyes. "I can see you're upset." Dean's eyes widened with fury at Chuck's continued calm, and Cass's protective nature screamed at him to pull Dean back and get between them, but his feet weren't moving. Correction, they couldn't move. Chuck. He watched as his father raised a finger to Dean's face. "But!" He shouted with a huge grin. "I could always send him to heaven. I am God after all, capital G." He walked away from Dean, allowing Castiel to let out a breath. "Of course, you'd have to do something for me."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "What the hell could we do for you?"

"You know when a show has a lot of seasons? Like, more than five or six?" Chuck was walking around the bunker, not necessarily looking at Dean or Castiel. "When a show is like that, you can still maintain how much you like the characters and how they've grown and the new friendships, but personally I enjoy watching the reruns. Back when things were newer. When the characters weren't as seasoned. I miss the older characters and the different setting and how each episode stands alone, you know? It's like, a lot of good shows have a lot of separate, stand alone episodes, but as seasons go on it seems like every episode is heavily reliant on the one before and the one to follow." He was still walking around them, now in circles. "It's always fun to watch reruns and remember what once was, you know?" He looked at Cass expectantly, but he didn't know how to respond to his father. "Ah, he gets it, right?" Chuck turned his attention to Dean, who also didn't respond. "Nothing? Okay, whatever." He rolled his eyes at them dramatically.

"Where are you going with this Chuck?" Dean growled.

"Well Dean, I think it's time for some reruns, don't you?" Again, Dean didn't have an answer, usually he was quick to have some sort of quip, but Chuck wasn't giving him much to work with. He was just incoherently complaining about TV, which seemed pretty run-of-the-mill for the guy. "Really, nothing again? You too Castiel?" He looked exasperated as his gaze flickered between the two. He let out a very loud, fake sounding, over-the-top groan. "Whatever, you guys are boring me. Here's the deal Dean, it's pay to play. You win, Kevin goes to heaven, deal?" 

Dean opened his mouth to say something but Chuck snapped his fingers and suddenly Cass was alone in the bunker. He whipped his head around, scanning the room. "Dean?" Nothing. "Chuck?!" The entire place was empty.

"DEAN!"

-

"Listen here Chuck, I'm…" Dean found himself trailing off as his eyes widened, trying to adjust to the sudden change in scenery. He was in a bustling diner in the middle of the day, a plate with a burger on it being placed in front of him. Confused, he looked up to see the man across from him.

Sam had one eyebrow raised. He looked incredibly confused and maybe a bit worried, but that wasn't what was bothering Dean. He was staring at his younger brother, but a lot younger. The boy had long bangs but shorter hair than he did now. Everything about his facial features just looked rounder, softer, and like a child. Of course, he wasn't a child, but he wasn't the adult Sam who left last night for a hunt. This was a Sam, freshly pulled from college.

Dean looked at his hands, which he could just tell were younger. He felt a confused panic rising in his stomach and he unconsciously grabbed the table as though he needed something to steady himself.

"Whoa, Dean, are you alright?" Sam's voice was higher, lighter, goddamn younger. "Hey, what's happening man?"

Dean still couldn't find it in himself to answer. He felt around his pockets. He was wearing a jacket he hadn't seen in a couple years, a shirt that got ripped when he was hunting a vamp nest. He had knives and guns tucked away in all the right places, but they weren't his knives, or his guns. Maybe once, but they certainly weren't the best ones he had available in the Impala or the bunker. 

He felt around in one specific vacant spot. It was a pistol there, not at all what he had expected. Not what he'd carried with him for ten years. "No, no no no no." He muttered under his breath, trying to keep himself calm. He wasn't calm, he was full on freaking out and every damn person in this diner was going to notice. "Chuck?!" He shouted, causing his brother's eyes to nearly pop out of his head in surprise, embarrassment, and worry. 

Dean ripped out of the booth they were in and ran outside to the parking lot, as if leaving the diner would pop him right back in the bunker where he was just thirty damn seconds ago. "Cass?!" He shouted, louder this time, with no response. "Dammit Chuck where the hell are you?!" There was no response yet again.

He felt a hand grab his shoulder and forcefully spin him around. He met Sam's eyes again, these strangely out of place, young eyes. "Dean what the hell?"

"My angel blade, that son of a bitch took my angel blade!" Dean was still not comprehending his situation. How could he? He'd time travelled before, but he'd always had some warning. Okay, maybe "you have to stop it" wasn't much of a warning but it's been a couple of go arounds since that first one. He'd been to his mother's past twice now, he'd been to the old west and hung out with Eliot Ness in the 40s, PLUS a trip to a possible Croatoan virus apocalypse future, which he supposed was now in his own past. But that had always been angels.

This time it was God. God, who was casually walking around talking about reruns and playing games while Kevin was being tortured in hell. So that's what this was? A rerun? That son of a bitch was just throwing him back in his younger self for kicks?

"What the hell are you talking about? Angel blade? Dean you're scaring me." Sam tried to level with his brother, pulling him back into reality.

Dean needed to stop freaking out. He needed to figure out what was going on, and when exactly Chuck tossed him. He didn't like the fact that he might have just left Cass and Chuck alone in the bunker together, it made his skin crawl to know that if Chuck did anything to Cass, Dean wouldn't be around to do anything about it.

"Where am I?" He settled on a simple question, though vwry possibly a frightening one, if Sam's face was giving anything away. Dean cursed himself a bit, he had been the cause of Sam's worry on multiple occasions, but something about seeing him here, as young as he was now, as unaffected as he was by things like the apocalypse and Lucifer and Michael and hell, a douchebag God, hurt more than he wanted it to. There was a part of Dean, the older brother part who had to play mother and father to this kid, who wanted this version of his brother back, selfishly so. This one was less terrified and more easily protected.

Sam hadn't moved his hand from Dean's shoulder and just kept gripping it tighter, as though it would bring Dean back to reality. "Dean, we're on the road, going to a case remember? The infamous "Hell House"? The girls? The attacks?"

That rang a bell. Hell House, something about that was familiar, but not because he had worked it before, but because it reminded him of somebody. Two somebodies in particular…

"No, godammit, no he didn't." Dean wasn't looking at Sam, but back to looking around. He felt Sam's grip on him get even tighter and Dean just smacked his arm off of his shoulder. He couldn't seriously have done this. 

Chuck had one interesting sense of humor all right. Not only could Dean now piece that he sent him back to two thousand fucking SIX, but he plopped him right before they met the goddamn Ghostfacers.

"Dean stop it." Sam's voice was serious and stern. Dean needed to think this through, Chuck said something about winning right? Winning what? How exactly did he win in this little game against, well, fucking God?

However he had to win, he would find a way. This was quite possibly their only chance at sending Kevin to heaven, where he belonged. He was sure the Cass that he left behind was losing his mind, but Dean couldn't waste time searching for a way to get back when there might possibly not be any. This was God's world, God's game, and His rules. Rules that Dean would be dying to know right now.

He said he liked reruns, right? So maybe the first rule, maybe the whole game, was to redo this case. If that was it, then Dean realized he probably couldn't and maybe wasn't even supposed to tell his very little brother about the time travel. Crap, he wished that he just settled on these realizations instantaneously, because he wasn't sure how to backpedal from this.

So he settled on playing dumb, but like, incredibly dumb. "Wait, what just happened?" He pulled the most innocent, I'm-not-a-time-traveler-from-the-future-sent-by-God face he could devise.

Sam's eyes bulged. "What just happened? Seriously?" That looked like a serious face. "We were sitting in the booth, and you were rambling on about how I was a 'loser' for ordering a salad, and then midsentence, your face completely changed expressions and you were angrily yelling 'listen here Chuck', so I don't know Dean, why don't you tell me exactly what the fuck is going on here." Sam raised his hands, exasperated. "You ran out of the diner shouting for this 'Chuck' and, I don't know, someone named Cass or something? And what the hell is an angel blade?"

Shit, this was hard to backpedal out of. "I'm sorry Sammy, uh…" he desperately made a play for an excuse. "I uh, I'm not sure what just happened. I guess I've been kind of out of it and I just… snapped." He felt a little guilty, but he knew that it would be easier to lie to this version of Sam, so he locked eyes with him and put on his most deceiving expression. "Sam, I don't know what just happened, I don't even remember how I got from that booth to this parking lot."

Sam was now very concerned for his brother. Sure, Dean was stressed recently about their dad, and they both wanted to find him, but that kind of mental break he was describing wasn't normal. You don't just hysterically start rattling on about a bunch of people who aren't real, and run out of a diner angrily looking for people who aren't there, and curse someone for stealing a weapon that doesn't exist. Sam tried to connect any of these dots to maybe things from their hunts coming back to haunt him, but he couldn't. An angel blade? Was that a brand of one of Dean's knives? Dean might name his car but he didn't name his weapons like some hunters. And the names Chuck and Cass weren't ringing any bells either. Other hunters? Victims on a case? Aliases they'd used?

But still, looking into Dean's eyes, he couldn't see a sliver of deceit. He was telling the truth, he had to be, he just didn't know what the hell that meant for them. "Maybe we should take you to see a doctor." 

"No! God, no, Sam, it's fine. I'm fine."

"You are definitely not 'fine' Dean. That, was not fine." He was baffled by his brother's sudden apathy and apparent boredom at the situation. Did he just not care that he was acting like a maniac? 

"Look, Sam, let's just get back at it, right? Bury our problems with a hunt? Like usual? Come on, let's hit the road!" He could tell Dean was just itching to get to the car.

"But what about your burger?" Dean never left a place without eating first.

"Ugh, no, I am not hungry right now, we just ate." Dean added nonchalantly. Before he prayed to Chuck, he and Cass had eaten lunch in the kitchen, Cass insisting Dean would feel better with food in his stomach. 

He caught Sam's bewildered glance and remembered that this was not the same day he had been having, he was in 2006 now and he needed to start acting like it if he ever hoped Chuck would send Kevin to heaven, or even bring Dean home.

He tried not to think about what would happen if Chuck's definition of "winning" this game wasn't solving the case, and how long he might be here for. One problem at a time.

-

Dean's problem was that his annoying little brother wouldn't stop asking questions, and he couldn't manage to stop slipping up.

Sam tried to bring up the diner incident again and Dean didn't have an explanation for it, so he stuck with the lie that he lost a chunk of time. He felt bad because it was so easy to lie to this younger Sam. It was no secret him and Sam became better liars as the years went by, but they could never lie to each other. They knew each other too well. And this 2006 Sammy might think he knew Dean well enough to know when he was lying, but the Dean he knew checked out at that diner. This Dean was older and more experienced, but Sam wouldn't know that at all, so he believed his story.

However, that was one lie. And even if he could sell it to his brother, he was from the future, and he couldn't come up with a good cover for everything.

"Who is Chuck?" Sam asked him in the car. What Dean really wanted to say was 'well Sammy-o, he's God, and he's a dick' but he just looked at him like he was confused. "Okay, who's Cass?" Dean again stuck with a shrug and an "I don't know".

Unbeknownst to Dean, Sam did pick up on a little body language with that one. Dean's hands tightened a little around the steering wheel and a look had flashed across his face momentarily. Sam wasn't sure what this reaction meant, he could wager it was a mix of concern and guilt, which filled him with many more questions he didn't dare ask.

And he'd be right about that. Dean had been worrying about where Cass was. Chuck just sent Dean back, right? It's not like an angel fell onto the roof of the diner. But then again, Dean woke up in his body from 2006, so that would mean if Chuck had sent Castiel back with him, he would be up in heaven, and Dean didn't want to think about how poorly that would go. Dean could freak out a bit in a diner with his brother, but Cass couldn't afford that around a bunch of angels. So Dean had to assume that Chuck sent him back alone, after all, he had been talking to Dean specifically about playing and winning.

So that was that, Cass had to be still in the future. That was a relief, but considering he wasn't sure of Chuck's endgame, he still couldn't stop himself from worrying a bit about Chuck doing something while he was gone.

That was the problem with God being a weird hermit liar. He was still God, but he was so damn unpredictable. Chuck wouldn't hurt Cass would he? Or worse? If he came back to the future, what the hell could he do if Cass was gone? Dean's overprotective nature was a tangible feeling and it was teeming beneath his skin. If he did ANYTHING to Cass he would… what? What exactly could he do to fucking God?

No, there was no way Chuck would kill Cass. He was just freaking out. Knowing that bastard he probably disappeared the same second Dean did, and Cass was left to be the one losing his mind back in the bunker.

Sam noticed how after he had asked that question, Dean had begun to press the gas. He warned him to slow down but it seemed as though he didn't hear him at all, lost in thought. But before he got too freaked out again, he saw Dean relax and slow down. What the hell was going on with him today?

-

Dean felt himself settling in pretty well to being in the past. After convincing himself that Cass would be fine and submitting to the knowledge that Chuck wasn't answering his prayers, he just decided to play along. 

Part of him relished that two day car ride with young Sam. They slept in the Impala, something Dean hadn't done since Amara had first been released years ago. 

There was something about being with this version of Sam, he had less baggage yet he managed to be more hopeless, the remnants of a man who had a light at the end of his tunnel fizzle out, or burn out on his ceiling with the girl he loved. He forgot how soon it had been since Jess died and it hurt Dean to see his brother still clearly grieving. 

Sometimes he would say something that would surprise Sam. Hell, he let Sam drive for a few hours so he could get a nap without a single complaint or protest, he just smiled and tossed him the keys. The Dean that had been here before would never have ever let Sammy drive his car.

He wanted to apologise to this Sam for things that hadn't happened yet. For all the lies he would tell, for his soul, for Lucifer, for the demon blood, for their mom, for Chuck, for Gadreel, and god, mostly for Kevin. 

He knew that by now Cass must have told future Sam about Kevin being in hell, and he knew it would break Sam's heart. Yes, Dean was playing along with Chuck's little scheme for Kevin, but also for Sam. It wasn't his fault, it was Dean's, but he knew that Sam had never forgotten it. 

But why the games? Why so many damn games for Kevin? Dean knew that a damned soul couldn't go to heaven, but that was semantics, he knew for a fact Chuck could do it. Mostly because he knew for a fact that if he sent Kevin to Anubis that abacus would weigh in that poor kid's favor. So why the run around? Why the Doctor Who crap?

He didn't want to admit it but he knew the answer. Because it's fun. Chuck likes to have fun, and throwing the Winchesters through time probably counted.

"Do you believe in God, Sammy?" Dean asked. They were probably an hour out from the Hell House case, the one Dean had been trying to piece together from his memories. 

Sam looked over at him confused, but he saw no sarcasm or spite in his brother's face. He knew that Dean didn't believe in God or angels, only demons and monsters, so usually when they talked about God Dean would just roll his eyes. But he looked so defeated.

"Yeah, actually. I do." Sam responded firmly. "I know you don't, and I know you think that because we work this job we have the benefit of the truth, but I still have faith."

"In God? Or angels, I guess?"

"Yeah. I do. If you're asking if I believe in God and angels then yes Dean, I do. I really think that God is watching us."

He saw a dark, almost angry look across Dean's face. It wasn't doubt or annoyance, but rather just rage and a controlled sadness that Sam couldn't hope to understand. The moment passed, and he watched as his older brother smiled to himself, like he was having his own personal inside joke. "So you believe in angels?"

Sam didn't understand what Dean wanted from his question. It was like he was looking for a specific reaction, but not with malice, simply with a waiting amusement. "Yes Dean. Angels."

"With uh, wings? And halos? Or maybe the fat naked baby ones?"

"You know Dean, the bible actually lists angels as warriors." Dean had been slightly laughing through everything he said about angels, but stopped when Sam said the word "warriors" and he didn't know why. "What about you?"

Dean looked out the window, almost coldly. "I don't know what I believe anymore Sam."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that I'm glad you believe in God. As long as you aren't banking on his help, I'm glad you have something to believe in. Really, I am."

Sam didn't know what to say, Dean just sounded so defeated. What was it about God that seemed to offend his brother? "You know, we're going to find him."

"Who?"

Seriously? Was this even still Dean Winchester? "Dad, Dean. We're going to find Dad."

"Ah." Dean hadn't thought about his father once. He didn't know how to feel about the man, he'd been dead for so long now, god, 14 years? Or something like. And when that pearl granted him what he wanted and he got to see his father again it had been nice, but that man was not the revenge-seeking ass that Dean knew from this year he was in. "Yeah sure, whatever." Dean didn't want to sound too different than the Dean that Sam had been with before, but he wasn't sure he could pretend to care about John Winchester. He didn't have any regrets about how he regarded the man in life, but he wasn't sure he could repeat that "yes sir" bullshit he had been brainwashed in last time around.

He did know for a fact that they did not reunite with their father on this particular case, so he left it at that. 

"What about angels?" Sam broke the silence following Dean's mixed feelings about his father. Dean just raised an eyebrow. "You asked me, so now I'm asking you. Do you believe in angels?"

Dean laughed, it was a rough, gritty, deep laugh. "You know what Sammy, no I don't." He could recall a firm disbelief in angels before he had been pulled from hell. Still, he couldn't help himself. "If angels were real however, I'd guess they'd just be a bunch of dicks. The whole lot of them. A bunch of self-righteous sons of bitches."

Sam gave his brother an incredulous look, surprised to hear him say such a sweeping statement of hatred over something he didn't even believe in. "Every angel? Like, every single one in the bible?"

"No, not every angel." Dean corrected honestly. "Most, but not every single one." He made a risk with his next statement. "Not every inhuman thing is horrible, Sammy. I need to believe that."

Sam was now enormously confused. What the actual hell was he talking about?

Dean thought about how badly he really felt about those angels. He was right of course in saying jot every angel was bad. Cass obviously was the reason he said it, but he wasn't the only one.

He remembered Anna, the angel who loved humanity so much she sacrificed her grace and her memories for it, and Alfie, or Samandriel, that poor little son of a bitch who was just trying to do a good job and even help them a little bit, and Gabriel, who may have given them the run around more than once but he ended up being tortured for years and still found it in him to help them and inevitably sacrifice himself for them.

This is actually the kind of shit Gabe would pull. Like father like son.

The one factor all those angels had in common, besides the fact that they weren't total dicks, was that they were all dead. Except Cass. Maybe that was why Dean was so worried about him being left alone with Chuck, maybe that's why he worried about him so much in general. He was his best friend, and he seemed to be late for a pattern that Dean was just waiting for to come and blindside him. And Dean didn't know what he would do if Cass died. Not this time, not again. He didn't know if he could handle it again. He had to believe that Cass was okay, and that he was making up this conflict in his head out of his own peril and confusion.

He just felt so lost here, he had no parameters, no rules, no goal to follow. He only had the case that was ahead of them, and he wasn't even sure solving it again was what Chuck wanted, or if it had anything to do with what Chuck wanted.

He would give anything for that familiar angel on his shoulder right about now. At least they'd be confused together, at least he'd have someone to understand. Young Sam was nice, but he wasn't much in the way of comfort.

How the fuck was he supposed to pass a test when he didn't know what it was about?

At least he knew he was taking a test in the first place. But the stakes were Kevin's soul and very possibly Dean's ability to go home again.

And Sam did not let Dean's strange queries and admissions go forgotten.

-

Though he had remembered the Ghostfacers were a part of the case, Dean had forgotten just how insufferable they were. And they were insufferable, but not the way he remembered it.

Somehow, though it had been two full days since he stumbled into 2006, now that they were finally on the case it felt different. Being in the Impala with Sam, even a Sam much, much younger, had just felt like life. Like it didn't matter what year it was, it was the same car and the same music. The same dusty gas stations and expired jerky. But being on the case now was hitting him differently.

Talking to the witnesses, those annoying and dramatic teenagers, was just as tedious as the last time, but it felt like a dream. Not good or bad, just groggy and vaguely familiar. It took deja-vu to the next level.

And Dean decided to play along, guessing that it was a ghost and nothing else even though he knew better, but when Sam suggested they get to their regular habit of grave-digging Dean wasn't sure he could do that again, so he sped up the process a bit.

"Sam, we might have to rethink torching those bones." Dean said as he, unbeknownst to his little brother, was pulling up that Hell House website on their computer. "I think it's a Tulpa." Sam shot him a questioning look.

They had been in the house earlier, Dean wanted to be sure he could line up as much evidence as possible while doing as little work as possible to repeat this case, but to do it better than the last time. It was a tough balance considering Dean didn't remember every detail, so he may have just been giving up at this point, but he honestly didn't care all that much.

"I'm pretty sure the legend is a fake, or at least not accurate. And when we were at the house, I just realized that those symbols on the wall that I recognized were from a Blue Oyster Cult album, just like the ones that kid at the record shop would like. And there's this website that has tons of hits, so I think it's a tulpa." He didn't pause to let Sam interrupt with any questions he couldn't answer or to question his theory entirely. "Just please, go with me on this one. I think we need to talk to the dumbasses who run this website and convince them to write in a weakness, then we can test the theory, deal?"

Sam had to hand it to him, even if the tulpa theory came out of nowhere, he was going about it reasonably, so he agreed.

One thing Dean remembered was they tried saying he could be killed by something like silver bullets or iron chains or shotguns or something, it hardly ended up mattering because the website had crashed and no one could read it. But now, if he could convince them to change it earlier so that the site wouldn't crash at the wrong time they wouldn't have to go through the hassle of burning the damn place down and having to save those two's asses.

He expected to hate Harry and Ed as much as he had the first time, but he didn't. Sure they were annoying as all hell and he wished they'd just mind their damn business, but after seeing them with their team, when they tried to make that damn show, when they lost that poor kid Corbett, and during their inevitable fallout, Dean couldn't help but like the sons of bitches. 

But seeing them together, united in their love for ghosts and their hatred for the meddling Winchesters, Dean couldn't help but feel happy. When they fell out, it had hurt Dean because he knew Sam was happy watching Harry walk away from Ed, because what Ed had done was selfish and wrong. What Dean did with Gadreel was selfish and wrong and dammit everything about this had something to do with Kevin.

Maybe that's why God sent him back in time for this case, because he had a cruel love for irony. 

But Sam found it in him to forgive Dean, he had to remember that. And the Sam that was grumbling about how annoying those two idiots had been as they drove to shoot up a tulpa, had no memory of either his anger or his forgiveness.

After a little running around, Sam had shot the tulpa through the head and it took him down, proving Dean had been right, and Dean expectantly looked around. He was disappointed but not entirely surprised to see that there was no presence of Chuck anywhere.

-

Some things never did change. Sam and Dean still tricked Ed and Harry by calling them pretending to be Hollywood producers, which Dean did to ensure that he wouldn't end the Ghostfacers before they even began, but he had something else he had to do as they were leaving.

"Hey Ed, could I talk to you for a minute?" He beckoned the curly haired nerd to walk a little ways away so Sam couldn't hear. He followed Dean, though clearly tense and skittish as though Dean was taking him out back to shoot him.

"Are you going to tell me that I'm crazy, Dean? Because last I checked I'm the one getting a TV show."

Dean laughed warmly, catching Ed off guard. But Dean's face slipped into seriousness quickly. "Listen Ed, you're going to assemble a team of ghost hunters for your show in about two years. One of those people will be a man named Corbett."

"That sounds like a weird name."

"Yeah, well he's a great guy. And he dies bloody, real bloody. So you got to promise me that you'll leave him out of your ghost hunting. Deal?"

"This is very funny, and very weird. Why are you even telling me this?"

"Because I'm from the future, Ed."

Ed's eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Really? Prove it."

Dean wasn't sure how. Maybe if he knew more information about the guy he could use it now and tell him he knew from the future, but he barely remembered anything. But then he got a slightly evil idea. "You and Harry produce Ghostfacers, and it's really popular. Everyone loves it and you get on Ellen. You're both married to these crazy hot chicks who dig the ghost stuff."

It was exactly what Ed wanted to hear, so his eyes widened in amazement. "Whoa, you're totally from the future! That's crazy sick! But um… when exactly do I meet this hot chick?"

"All in due time my friend. But promise me, you won't take Corbett out ghost hunting. I don't remember the date or the name of the house, but you run into us again in that house. And that day, I, well, hopefully, won't be the me you're talking to. I'll be Dean, but I won't have any knowledge of being from the future, or of this conversation."

"Whoa, wicked my man. Okay I promise, I'll remember. It's like a future mission. Up top!"

Dean just shook his head. "No. We're not there yet. Or ever."

In the car, Sam asked what he had told Ed, and Dean lied and said he was threatening him to try and keep him away from hunting. He felt guilty lying for the millionth time, but if that poor young guy who just wanted to be noticed had even the smallest chance of surviving, Dean wasn't going to screw it up.

-

Chuck didn't come for him that night. Or the next day on the road. 

Or the next.

And Dean didn't stop praying to him, some were angrier and some were more desperate but they were all the same, begging him or demanding him to just tell him the rules of this game. That's what it was, a game.

But day after day he got no response. So he kept trying everything he knew how.

The next case had been the one where that thing fed on children in the night. He had a harder time with this one, as it was the case from when he was a child and it had attacked Sammy, but he played this one out. He had no choice but to try and do exactly what he had done before, because all the children who had been hurt were hurt by the time they got there. Dean couldn't stop it, but he could save them.

It was just as hard as last time to use that kid as bait, but he was just as brave and determined to save his little brother.

Then there was the case with the painting that kept coming to life, with the little girl and the father who tried to warn people. Again he got to laugh at Sam's awkward flirtation with that girl Sarah Blake, the one who Crowley had killed a few years back, but Dean tried to swallow that down. There was little he could do to warn her of that now, because even if she knew what was going to happen, she wouldn't be able to stop it, and he wouldn't do that to her.

He realized how tough it was to not have anyone to talk to about what was really going on. The only person that was clued in to his time travel was Chuck who hadn't shown his face once, and a fucking Ghostfacer. 

He was becoming more and more frighteningly aware of the impending reunion with John Winchester, which he desperately wanted to avoid, but even that he wasn't sure about.

He had been trying to keep the future on track, assuming that was part of Chuck's game. But what if it wasn't? What if the man wanted him to change things? And he was stuck in his past because he wasn't changing much. But then, what if changing things disqualified him? Kevin's soul was too important a bargaining chip to just start guessing, and it's not like he could just avoid these hunts and let people die.

It had now been a little over three weeks since he was in the past, and he was grateful to have stopped at Bobby's. He had to admit that he missed the old place, and the old man. Apocalypse World Bobby was still his friend, but he certainly wasn't the gruff surrogate father he remembered and loved.

Bobby wasn't an idiot, and he was very much aware of the change in Dean's behavior, partially because unlike Sam, it hadn't been 2006 Dean one second and then future Dean mid-sentence. To Bobby it was 2006 Dean a month ago when he last came to visit, and a stranger here and now. Dean noticed, but hoped Bobby wouldn't voice this confusion to Sam.

Maybe it was to give him a little space from the other hunters, but Dean was happy to volunteer sleeping on the couch. Besides Bobby's room there were two beds in the house, but they were in the same room, and Dean needed some breathing room from Sam. His lying had built up so much around this young version of his brother that he felt like every slight twitch of his body was just another lie he had to tell. So he thought it might be best to sleep on the couch, while both of the hunters were sleeping upstairs so he didn't have to worry about them watching him. He felt like he was constantly being watched, probably because his behavior had become so strange, so the bit of solitude would be nice.

The couch smelled like whiskey and gasoline, and it was pretty damn comforting. That was the thing Dean had been upset about, something about 2006 didn't smell right. He and Sam smelled different, hell, even Baby smelled different. Not a bad different, hell the car probably smelled better here than it did in the future, but it was upsetting.

He had missed home. The idea of home, of course, was possible for him to maintain. Psychologically, home was people, like Sam who he had been with for the past three weeks. Physically, home could be Baby, who he'd been driving for three weeks. But it wasn't the same. It was the smells that actually drew him to that realization.

2006 wasn't home anymore, so nothing in it was. Of course he missed the physical bunker, he missed his room and that kitchen and his fridge and his TVs and the tables and chairs and the giant useless telescope they'd never used. But it was more than that, he missed home. Home being the future, his present. Home being Sam with the longer hair and that weird 5 o'clock shadow of a beard, flirting constantly with Eileen. Home was Cass appearing silently in doorways and trying to act like he hadn't actively been seeking Dean out because he was bored and just wanted his friend around. Home was leaving the bunker to go hunting with Sam and Cass and Eileen and watching Cass somehow still miss obvious jokes and social cues even with all the progress he'd made and the movies Dean forced him to watch.

But this couch felt like home, even in 2006, it was a bit of home to cling to, because he couldn't compare it. 2006 Sam and Baby were different to his own, but this couch didn't exist anymore. This couch, this whole damn house and scrapyard were a home he longed to return to before.

God he'd missed Bobby and his house. He would call it simpler times, but it wasn't. The apocalypse wasn't simple.

Still, he could sleep a little easier and maybe deeper here.

-

Castiel hated a lot of human emotions he had begun experiencing. He never regretted the feelings he felt that were akin to his own free will choices, but he hated the bad feelings.

As an angel, before mingling with human beings to the extent he had with the Winchesters, he didn't have to experience human pain. It was different than angelic pain. It ran deeper, lasted longer, and it would manifest in you in a way angels never dealt with.

If you were to lose your brother or sister, it was angelic loss, not human loss. It was a small regret, maybe even a guilt depending on the situation at hand, but it was hardly worth tears or grief. Humans felt so much grief. But humans felt happiness too, a way that Castiel had never felt at any moment in his life before meeting the Winchesters. 

Now he felt happiness all the time. True, good, honest happiness. And he began to realize it could come from small things.

He would be happy when Sam hugged Eileen, it was cute and genuine. He would be happy when they were all drunk and laughing about something they wouldn't remember in the morning. He would be happy when they would watch Dean's favorite movies and he would constantly speak over them, reciting the lines he remembered and doing bad impressions. He would happy riding in the backseat of the Impala on a hunt, and he would be happy riding in the front seat in the middle of the night when Dean wanted to clear his head. Cass had always worried that Dean didn't really want him tagging along on those rides, but one night he was avoiding him as to give Dean his freedom, but Dean had wandered around the entire bunker looking for him, not wanting to leave without him. That made him happier than most memories.

He loved the bunker, he loved living there, he loved knowing that he was wanted there and appreciated beyond who he was as an angel or even who he could be were he a human, but it was for who he was as Castiel. No, for who he was as Cass. He realized that his full name wasn't usually used in the company of people who loved him, so Cass always felt more right.

The problem with the glorious human emotions was the negative ones, when the happiness was gone. When Chuck whisked Dean away to Chuck-knows-where. The overwhelming concern and panic which was very… human. The guilt and shame as he told Sam what had happened, about Kevin and his brother.

As the days began to go by, he loved the bunker less and less. It wasn't quite the home he loved if Dean wasn't in it. He needed Dean to be in it in order to love it. He wasn't feeling very happy.

He prayed everyday. For the first week Dean was gone, they scoured the internet and their hunting friends for any hint as to where he had gone. No one knew anything, no one had seen Chuck or Dean since they disappeared.

Sam had his own theory, time travel. It wasn't crazy, what with Chuck's obsessive talk about reruns, it was entirely possible and likely that that's what in fact occurred. But were that to be the case, the situation would become more hopeless than it already was.

Finally, three weeks into Dean's disappearance, Castiel couldn't stand to do nothing any longer. He left a note for Sam for once he returned from Jody's, telling him he wouldn't be back to the bunker until he found Dean. And he meant it too, even if his plan to get Chuck's attention were to fail. He loved Sam, but that bunker stopped being a home and started being a bunker when Dean disappeared. He knew Sam felt it too, and missed his brother horribly, but where Cass was going and his plan, or lack-there-of, couldn't handle Sam's emotional responses. He wasn't sure if it could handle his own, yet he pressed on.

He hadn't been in that house in a long time, but he thought it was the best place to call out for Chuck. After all, he'd been praying for him from the bunker with no response, he even tried mimicking Dean's prayer exactly, and it was to no avail.

Chuck Shurley's old house was just as dusty and messy as Castiel remembered. He didn't have fond memories, mostly memories of Raphael coming in to smite him, but he thought he might get Chuck's attention, or at least prove to him that he wasn't going to give this up.

"Chuck?" He called into the house as though he were already there. "It's Castiel. I know you've heard me praying before and chosen not to come, but I'm begging you. Please, just speak to me!"

"Okay, alright, calm down Castiel." There Chuck was, standing in front of him again. Cass couldn't think of a word to say suddenly, having not really expected this to work. But here he was.

"Please, return Dean Winchester."

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Ugh, I came all the way here for this? I'm missing some mushy moment of 'this couch smells like whiskey and gasoline' for this Castiel? Come on, you've got to know that wasn't going to work." Then in an instant he was gone again.

No, no no no no. He couldn't have lost his only chance to find Dean already. "Let me play the game!"

Chuck instantly reappeared, looking intrigued or maybe even excited. "Ooh, please continue."

"It's a game right? You said he has to win for you to allow Kevin's soul into heaven?" Chuck just nodded. "Then let me play it with him. I'll follow whatever rules you set, whatever it is you need me to do to let me be there, just please allow me to be there. Let me play the game."

Chuck tapped his chin thoughtfully. "You know what, alright. I'll allow it. With some rules! But still, this might be fun." He snapped his fingers before Cass could process that Chuck was giving him what he wanted. 

Castiel felt the air around him change. He was suddenly surrounded by colorful bars that reminded him of television, which would make sense considering Chuck seemed to be mixing metaphors here between television reruns and a game with Kevin's soul as a prize. The look of the brightly colored lines reminded him of Fred Jones' mind. He was that elderly hunter who accidentally killed people with cartoons. It was a hunt Castiel looked back on happily, having seen Dean be proud of him at the end and even offer to let him sit in the front seat of the Impala. In Fred's mind the atmosphere looked like the air Castiel was currently being whisked away in now.

-

Dean woke up multiple times during the night. Perhaps he read too much into the familiarity of Bobby's couch, because the other things he remembered about it was that it hurt his back and gasoline isn't necessarily a comforting smell to fall asleep to.

Eventually he gave up, swinging his legs over into an upright sitting position. He was just so frustrated and confused and alone and honestly a little scared as to how long he would be here and given how long that might be, what he would have to live through again.

It was now four in the morning, and he was the only one awake in the house. He liked the silence that washed over him. It was a strange but calming feeling, sitting up after waking uo, feeling very tired and his eyes very heavy, but he was just soaking in the air of the house.

He was grateful for Bobby's house and his couch, really he was, but even as peaceful as he felt, he never felt so alone.

As if answering a mental prayer, across the room something began to form in the air. It grew larger and slightly louder, but it was muffled and muted. He knew well enough that at this time of day, even though Sam was a morning person, it would take someone actually shouting to wake him or Bobby up. He considered it, but anything unfamiliar was both incredibly hopeful and paralyzingly horrifying, and until he knew which was which he planned on keeping Sam and Bobby out of it.

It looked like a large pool of static, and it sounded like static too. It grew larger and larger until it spread out along the entry frame to the stairs and landing, directly across from where Dean sat at the couch. It almost looked like a portal of some kind, not a rift like the one he'd seen, but a rippling pool suspended in the air like he'd seen in movies. 

As it reached its full form, it changed from the black and white static to the vibrant colored bars of a failing TV screen. He was shocked and compelled to see it, as he'd never seen anything like it before. It looked like a portal to a TV world, but Dean knew that that idea didn't make any damn sense, not to mention Dean had been in a TV world twice and it never required a television-themed portal, at least not literally.

But out popped one angel in a trenchcoat. He was more like tossed through, as though someone shoved him, but he managed to land on his feet and straighten himself up. After he landed on the ground the little portal quickly shrunk back into nothing with a cartoonish popping sound as it vanished.

Dean watched, frozen in shock and awe and relief and confusion and every damn other emotion a human could possess as he watched Cass look around, attempting to get his bearings, looking confused as to why he was in Bobby's no longer existing home, but then he finally locked eyes on Dean. He pinched his brow for a second as though suspicious, but whatever look Dean had on his face must have been evidence enough because all the confusion about his surroundings and suspicions seemed to melt away into one large eye to eye smile.

"Dean!" Was all he shouted before Dean had crossed the room and enveloped him into a hug. It took Castiel a second to realize what was happening, still recovering from having been in Chuck's former hovel only seconds ago, but when he snapped to it he latched onto his best friend tightly, like he was going to lose him if he loosened even a bit, but Dean didn't seem to mind. He was balling up Cass's trenchcoat in his fists as he clung tightly to the angel.

When Dean finally pulled away, he could see Cass's face looked relieved and excited, which pretty much answered the question he had, which was going to be whether or not it had been weeks since Cass and Sam saw him. Clearly it had.

"Damn it's good to see you Cass!" Dean proclaimed, a hearty laugh and a firm pat on Cass's shoulder, which he left there.

A voice from behind Cass pulled their attention sharply. "How adorable, you know this is worth you incessantly not willing to leave me alone." Chuck was sitting on Bobby's desk, legs swinging. Dean and Cass shared an equally concerned and annoyed look. "What? I got you here, didn't I Castiel? You should be thanking me." He raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Go on, thank me."

"Thank you? You sent Dean here in the first place."

"Well duh. But I didn't have to let you join."

"Okay enough!" Dean cut in, not willing to waste this time where Chuck was in the room. "What is the game? What are the rules? How can I win Kevin's soul if I don't know what I'm playing at?"

Chuck raised his hands in mock surrender. "Whoa, lots of questions today! I get this isn't perfect, but there's a reason I'm not telling you rules Dean. There aren't any. Just keep playing. You're doing fantastic so far, I like how this is working out, but you, Castiel, like I said there will be rules."

"What kind of rules?" Dean asked, exasperatedly.

"First of all, I threw Dean back here in his old body, but I can't do that for you, obviously, because you're up in heaven and James Novak is unaware of your existence. So I did you a solid, throwing you here with your present body. So my rule is, you can't show yourself to anyone around Dean. That means Sam, that means Bobby, and whatever other fun bands of hunters you two might run into. If you do, you will both be disqualified."

"How can I be here and playing this strange game with Dean if I have to avoid Sam? It's impossible."

"No, Castiel. I'm God, nothing is impossible. You'll see. But hey, it's not all bad news! I left you a little present I think you'll come to appreciate." He had an evil smile stretched across his face. Okay, it wasn't inherently evil, but both Dean and Castiel saw it that way. "Ooh, do you hear that? My popcorn's done!"

Just like every damn time they ran into Chuck he disappeared in a moment. Cass and Dean didn't even have a second to register it before Sam came running into the room. "Dean?!"

Dean and Cass frantically looked at each other, they had somehow managed to already break the only rule Chuck laid out for them. Dean instinctually grabbed Cass's arm, expecting him to disappear as suddenly as Chuck had, assuming that that's what the disqualification entailed.

"Sam, I can explain."

Sam looked around the room. Besides his brother holding his arm out in a weird way as if reaching for something that Sam couldn't see, there was nothing suspicious in Bobby's room. "Sorry, I hope I didn't wake you, I just swore I heard voices."

Sam watched as his brother glanced to his left, holding the gaze and then turned back to his little brother. Okay, maybe there was cause for suspicion, but it was coming from Dean's erratic behavior that he was getting somewhat used to recently.

"You heard voices?" Dean kept glancing between Cass and his brother. Sam never looked at Cass, something they both noticed.

"Yeah, sorry. It's…" Sam scratched the back of his neck. "It sounds crazy but I thought I heard somebody say… um… that they were God." He let out an embarrassed laugh.

This time the look shared between Castiel and Dean was full of wide eyed realization. Cass cautiously took a step forward. "Sam, can you see me?"

Sam didn't take his eyes off of Dean, didn't even twitch, he just stood there, waiting for Dean's reaction to his God comment.

"Oh my god Cass he can't see you." The second it came out his mouth he wanted to slap himself for saying something so stupid. Sam raised an eyebrow, looking glad that Dean didn't fixate on his strange assertion about hearing God, but confused as to who the hell he was talking to.

"No, it appears as though he cannot." Cass looked down at himself and curiously began unfolding and folding his fingers. "But I think… I think he could if I let him." He looked over at Dean with a leveled expression. "Chuck gave me the ability to only appear to who I choose. Almost like when I used to…" he nervously looked at the ground, and Dean couldn't stop himself from walking over and putting a reassuring hand on Cass's shoulder once more.

"Superman going to the dark side?" Dean mumbled. It was quiet and rhetorical and he made sure it was lacking the spite that it had come with in the past. Cass looked so guilty when he said it, so he squeezed his shoulder even more. He honestly had forgiven him for what happened then, it had been a long time ago now. But Cass was right, the last time he had enough power to only show himself to whoever he chose was before he sucked up the souls from Purgatory, when Cass had given away that he'd been spying on them by referencing Dean calling him "Superman going dark side".

He moved away, noticing Sam's wide-eyed anger. He hadn't seen that face since Dean first arrived back in the diner and he didn't mean to scare him again, but it was hard to shift from Cass just finally getting here to pretending he wasn't here at all, but he was painfully aware of how his brother was perceiving this moment. First he heard someone say they were God, then he came downstairs to see his brother continuously looking at something that wasn't there, before proceeding to talk to it directly and then lift his arm in the air, resting it on an invisible shoulder before making an oddly placed Superman reference. Just like at the diner, this was going to be hard to explain, and this time he couldn't play as dumb as he did three weeks ago.

"Dean, just what the fuck are you talking about? What's going on?"

"Nothing, sorry, I had a weird dream, but it was really vivid. For a moment I thought I was still in it." He settled on that, knowing it didn't explain away everything but at least he was sure he could recover from Sam's confusion better than he ever recovered from Sam's apparent panic at the diner. "Look, why don't you go back, get another hour or two of shut-eye, and then we'll get on the road for our hunt today, right?" Sam didn't look convinced. "Seriously man, I just need a couple minutes and I'll be fine. I swear."

Sam went against his gut and decided to drop it, giving his brother a weak, slightly tired smile before heading back to his room. As he walked up the stairs, he couldn't help but think about the name he mentioned. "Cass". Why did it sound so familiar in such an unsettling way? He tried to think of hunters they knew or family friends when it hit him.

He did the same thing, three weeks ago, trying to think of hunters or friends by that name, and one other, Chuck. Though the name Chuck had stuck out to him back at the diner due to Dean repeating it more, he remembered Cass was definitely the other name he called for. Sam felt uneasy, why was he calling the same name he called at the diner? He knew for a fact after that incident that they didn't know a Chuck or a Cass, so why had Dean brought it up, yet again in the middle of some sort of mental break?

Dean stood in the living room, smiling at his brother until he could officially no longer see him, before spinning back to face the invisible angel. "Okay what the hell man?!"

Cass looked just as confused and curious as Dean felt. "Maybe… I wonder if I have that power again…" suddenly right before his eyes, Cass disappeared with that familiar sound of shuffling wings. For a moment Dean let panic sink into his heart, wondering where he had gone and if he was coming back before realizing what was actually going on, a huge smile spreading over his face.

"No way." He whispered, now actually talking to an empty room. Maybe Sam was right about him being a basket-case. 

With that flutter of angelic wings, Cass was back in the room, staring at Dean, a huge rather goofy smile on his face that just made Dean smile even more. 

"Your wings." Was all he could say. That was the present Chuck had left him, he gave him his wings back. 

Castiel hadn't missed much about before he met the Winchesters, or before he became human for those few months, but dammit he missed his wings. He missed being able to blink and be across the world. A part of him always felt a little useless without them, even though Sam and Dean constantly reminded him that he was their family and they didn't keep him around because he was an angel.

But god, he missed his wings.

After taking a moment to revel in his regained ability, he pressed on. "What now? He still didn't reveal any rules, we still don't know how to get Kevin to heaven."

Dean squinted his eyes and bit his lip with an evil grin. "But he told us something, didn't he?" He clapped his hands together. "He said 'just keep playing'. He said he was happy with how it was working out. And he said there were no rules."

"So what have you been doing so far?"

"I've been keeping things as close to the original as I can while still saving more people. We've repeated three hunts already, and it's been a hell of a lot easier this time around. And I tried to stop something really bad from happening to some idiots in the future."

Cass nodded. "So I suppose you continue doing that then?" The angel sighed and plopped himself down on Bobby's couch. "I'm sorry Dean, I thought that maybe if I could get Chuck to let me come here, then-"

"Cass, don't." Dean's voice was soft as to not alert the hunters upstairs, but it was firm and commanding all the same. Castiel noticed how this Dean, an incredibly young version, was still the Dean he saw three weeks ago, still strong and brave and stubborn. "I'm glad you're here, man." He sat down next to him, a little cramped together on the small couch. "I can't tell you how much I wished you were here with me these last few weeks."

"But Dean, staying hidden keeps me limited. I have my wings, but without my form I won't be able to affect anything physically or heal anyone. I would have to show myself to everyone in order to muster that power."

Dean shot his friend a warning glare, like he didn't want Cass to insinuate what he currently was. "Don't you dare, Cass. I don't care if you're at full power or not, hell I don't care if Chuck sent you back here in the fucking body of a squirrel. Cass, I only care that you're here, you get that?"

Cass nodded, pressing his lips together in a small but genuine smile.

"Besides Cass, you can be like a spy if you really want to help hunt. You know, zapping in and out in the blink of an eye." Dean joked, but it was earnest.

"Oh, wait a second." Cass reached into his trenchcoat, feeling around for something. He pulled out an angel blade, and Dean was happy to see one. "I have two in my coat, I've been carrying yours just in case, so I wonder…" he held it out to Dean tentatively. 

Dean reached for it, partially worried his hand would go right through. He could feel Cass, but what if the angel blade didn't count? But his hand hit the familiar cold handle. He and Cass shared an excited look as Dean lifted it and twirled it in his hand.

"God I missed having one of these handy!" But they were interrupted by the sound of heavy steps trudging down the stairs. Dean was grateful that he slept in his jacket as he slid the angel blade inside and concealed it from the grumpy old hunter, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Well damn boy, that wasn't suspicious." Bobby gave a classic, Bobby eyebrow lift brand of sarcasm. A part of Dean, the part that hadn't seen his Bobby in a few years, began to feel self-conscious about exactly how close he and the angel were sitting, but he quickly relaxed, remembering that no one else could actually see Castiel.

He knew that if Bobby, especially this version of Bobby who not only didn't know Cass but also hadn't gotten used to Castiel's familiarity and sacrifice for him and the Winchesters, had been able to see the angel, he would never let it go. They were sitting side by side on the couch with absolutely no personal space, and this time it was Dean's doing since he sat down after Castiel. They were sitting, leg pressed against leg, and arm pressed against arm, as though they were attached. And they really were, the only part of their sides that weren't comfortably resting against each other were their shoes and heads. Though, even being aware of it, Dean didn't go to move just yet.

It was actually maybe a blessing. Dean was always someone who cherished physical contact, especially from the people he loved. Maybe it was because his father wasn't much of a hugger, but he loved sitting this close to someone, he loved hugging people, he loved lazy afternoons where he'd put his feet on Sam's lap like he was a footrest. Sam was never much into the physical affection bit. Sometimes he would humor his brother, hug him for a few extra seconds or give up complaining about being a human footrest and instead rest his hands on Dean's ankles over his lap. But considering he wasn't much for it himself, he didn't always understand it, and Dean was extremely self-conscious being close to someone when Sam was around for fear of him relentlessly teasing him for it.

So when Cass came around and the two of them got closer, Dean was surprised at being around a guy who didn't seem to mind much. He remembered a time where he and Cass were in a truck together, while Sam and the Impala were back at the bunker, and Dean had fallen asleep. When he woke up, he realized he had leaned over and rested his head on Cass's shoulder while he was sleeping. He jerked up and apologized for it, but Cass just looked confused. He had asked why Dean needed to apologize, and said that he was fine with it, but Dean had felt so embarrassed. Then, only a couple weeks later, they were in a similar situation where Cass was driving and Dean was nodding off, and though he attempted to lean his body toward the window, he found himself groggily and still half-asleep, waking up with not just his head, but most of his body pressed against Cass while he was driving. He was too tired to repeat his instant panic and embarrassment, but he did try to stir and move away, mumbling what was probably an apology.

But Cass had surprised him, he reached around Dean and put his hand on his upper arm, pushing him back down gently, pulling him more toward him than he had been before, shushing him and asking him to rest, saying he needed rest. With a hint of what was probably a protest, Dean settled in any way, vaguely aware of Castiel's hand on his hand, running through his hair the way Dean would describe how his mother would get him to sleep.

Dean wasn't aware, but when Cass had driven back to the bunker that night, he just stayed outside the garage and sat there, continuing to comfort Dean in his sleep, not wanting to wake him up with the light of the garage, and they stayed that way for a few more hours, Cass unwilling to ruin a moment where Dean was comfortable and at peace, and it was due to Castiel himself. That was the best thing he could possibly offer Dean Winchester, and nothing made him happier than knowing he could provide that.

After that night, Dean had been made aware that no matter how human Cass was becoming, he never quite developed that shame that men usually had being close with one another, and Dean commonly abused that little loophole, of course, he only did it when he was sure Sam wouldn't be around to make fun of him.

It was something that he cherished. He remembered one night after he got away from Michael when he had a nightmare of the people who Michael hurt, the people he slaughtered, he had run into the kitchen to get away from room. Cass saw him running and followed him and Dean still didn't know how, but somehow that night ended with him sobbing like a lost child into Cass's shoulder as he rubbed his back.

It had become a bit of a habit for him, too. He would make Cass watch movies in his room, and when it was just the two of them, they would both be on his bed, all but leaning against one another while Dean spoke through the whole thing. He hoped that Cass wasn't just putting up with him, so one night he leaned back against the bedframe rather than at the edge of the bed with Cass, but it was only mere seconds before Cass had followed suit, leaning against the frame right next to Dean, proving that Cass cared about it as much as he did.

Being here in 2006 was horrible, because a 2006 Dean would absolutely never try and hug his little brother, or sit right next to him, or anything. And even though he hugged Bobby a little longer than he normally would have due to having lost the man years ago, it wasn't reciprocated or normal. But the second Cass came back, and he hugged him, he gelt that same necessity mirrored in the angel. That reciprocated, normal, almost as needy feeling was coming from Cass, and Dean had never needed it as much as he did just then. And now, the one factor that would keep him from being clingy to his angel… okay no, the angel… which was the threat of embarrassment, had been completely eliminated.

"What do you mean?" Dean responded to Bobby innocently, getting a small laugh from Cass and a big eye roll from Bobby.

Dean and Sam packed up for their hunt, Sam noticing his brother continuously looking over at different points in the room as if there was a ghost he was looking for.

Neither Dean nor Castiel noticed a familiar photo resting on Bobby's desk right next to where Chuck had sat, tucked half under a book as the brothers waved goodbye.

-

Cass didn't have to be asked to get into the backseat of the Impala and go with the boys on their next hunt, but he was aware of how this hunt wasn't quite what it was supposed to be. He could have sworn Dean told him before about how the hunt right after the evil painting was when he ran into his father again, but now Dean was fixating on some random werewolf attack.

Castiel had never met John Winchester, and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to. It was difficult for him when he would watch Sam and Dean argue, but he seldom got involved because he didn't want to be caught taking sides. Perhaps it was because he would want to take Dean's side naturally, and if he genuinely disagreed with the elder Winchester he wouldn't dare risk getting on Dean's bad side again.

He knew Dean had mixed feelings for his father, a topic that came up sometimes during their late night drives when they would talk about serious things. But here in the backseat of Baby, he didn't think it best to bring that up. Especially since Dean couldn't really respond to him at the moment without Sam thinking he had completely lost his mind.

Castiel spent most of that day and the rest of the hunt, watching Sam. It was almost comical how different he had been from the Sam waiting for him at home.

He felt a pang of guilt at that. He left a note, but now Sam was not only going on without knowing where the hell Dean was, but now Cass was with him. He figured he wouldn't dwell on that, he knew there was no way to return back to his own time without Dean, and as long as he could do that, Sam wouldn't care that Cass had left to find him.

Young Sam seemed less confident but also less burdened. He was clearly plagued with a fear of his psychic visions and what that meant and Castiel's mind wandered to Azazel.

Azazel, prince of Hell. Certainly the most challenging of the four that the Winchesters had ever faced, though Ramiel was personally his least favorite. He shuddered to think of the way he felt when he was dying due to Michael's Lance. He had gotten lucky, it was Crowley he knew how to save him.

He didn't like how concerned for him the Winchesters had been. Not because he didn't care about himself, but because he didn't like being the cause of more pain than necessary. He relished being a confort whenever he could, and seeing that look on their faces, on Dean's face, burned away at his soul.

He realized that he wasn't sure how close to events Dean had told him about in the past they were yet. Would Castiel get to see Azazel? If he did, maybe he could just kill him. Or Dean could, now that he had an angel blade. Maybe that was how they won the game?

Castiel enjoyed the next few days as though they weren't the result of Chuck's own boredom. He let himself enjoy sitting in the back of the Impala with these less burdened boys, he enjoyed how every second Sam was gone, Dean would tell him how obvious the culprit of a case was, or they would make fun of the young Winchester for not yet knowing how to paint a devil's trap. Dean used every moment with him alone to remind him how glad he was to have him there with him and Castiel would insist that he wasn't doing much but he was glad he was there all the same.

Then, on a hunt that Dean used to avoid reuniting with his father, Sam got shot.

"Sam?! Sammy!" He shouted in his brother's face. Seeing a young version of his brother so hurt was killing him more than he thought. 

He whipped around when he heard a scream, as he watched Cass thrust his angel blade in and out of the demon's stomach, causing the body to fall to the ground next to his pistol clattering on the ground.

In an instant Castiel was by Sam's side, putting his hands over the bullet wound. They glowed with that familiar, relieving light and Dean watched his brother's wound close and disappear. Dean hadn't even been aware how tightly he was gripping Cass's shoulder in anticipation until Sam took in a big breath.

"Sorry." He let go, knowing that there wasn't much he could do to injure the angel, but embarrassed regardless. "I'll go check the perimeter, make sure we didn't miss any of the bastards." Dean got up and ran to the door

Sam's eyes flickered open but didn't fixate on Dean. He was squinting and he looked a little confused, Cass realized that he was looking directly at him.

Sam watched as the blurry man kneeling before him became slightly more focused, but before he could regain all his senses the man was gone in an instant. Sam blinked hard a few times, but the man was completely gone. He reached to the wound he remembered feeling, but it was completely gone. There was blood, but not a single scratch in his skin.

He watched as his brother appeared in the doorway and ran over to him. "Hey there Sammy, you okay?"

Sam was looking around wildly. "I was shot." Dean eyed where he was clutching his torso. 

"It doesn't look like it, Sam."

"Dean I know what happened! Look, there's blood!"

"Okay, that's weird Sam, but there's no wound. Look!"

"I can see that. Someone healed me!"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "I think you hit your hit when you fell backward, Sam. It was just me, you, and those demons."

"Dean, I swear there was a man who healed me and then he disappeared."

Dean humored him and looked around the room, seeing no one. Honestly too, Cass must have panicked at the idea of breaking the rules to heal Sam that he flew away in lieu of becoming invisible. "This man just disappeared? You mean, like a demon?"

"Yes, like a demon, or something else, I don't know!"

"You're telling me a demon healed you? Why? They're the ones who shot you!"

"I don't know Dean, but I know I was shot. I felt it, and then I saw someone above me. I couldn't quite see his face, but I think he was wearing a trenchcoat."

Dean laughed a bit to himself and to aid his lie. "So you're telling me a flasher healed you?"

"Ew no, Dean." Sam's voice was teetering between annoyance and anger, but he was clearly softening a bit. "He was wearing a suit underneath, I think."

Dean helped his brother off the ground. "Look, I don't know what happened, but if you say you were shot I believe you. Why don't we take a break from hunting and go to Bobby's for a bit, maybe hit the books about what you think healed you. Okay?"

Sam nodded, a bit relieved that Dean believed him, and they made their way to the car for the two day ride between where they were in West Virginia to Bobby's scrapyard.

Dean waited all night for Cass to reappear in the backseat of the Impala, then in their motel room, but he never did.

-

When they hit the road that morning, Dean began to think the worst had happened. Maybe Cass hadn't flown away, maybe Chuck zapped him back to his time for breaking the rules. Sam didn't really see him, it wasn't fair. He couldn't be alone, yet again, it just wasn't fair.

Dean considered asking his brother if this mystery man disappeared to the sound of flapping wings or if he just vanisged, but he knew he couldn't ask that without a bunch of questions he couldn't answer.

So Dean was both extremely relieved and enraged when the angel randomly appeared in the backseat around noon.

Dean hadn't heard the sound of his wings with the radio, and Cass probably sat there for a couple minutes before Dean checked the rearview mirror and saw the angel's face.

And it scared the hell out of him.

"Shit!" Dean shouted, jumping in his seat and swerving the Impala nearly off the road. Sam, who had been napping, sprung up in fear.

"What?! What happened?" He turned his body to look out the back mirror, but didn't see anything.

Dean, who was still oddly staring in the rearview mirror, answered quickly with "sorry, we almost hit a deer and I wasn't paying enough attention."

Sam let out a surprised chuckle. "A deer? You almost crashed Baby because of a deer?"

"Yeah, damn deer could have given me a heads up."

"I'm sorry Dean." Cass said, making eye contact with him through the mirror.

"I'm pretty pissed at that deer. Wondering why he didn't jump out sooner." Sam watched as Dean continued glaring in the rearview mirror. He was weirdly mad at this deer.

"Dean, I'm sorry. I panicked and flying was the quickest I could get away, instinctually." Dean softened a bit, only a BIT, when Cass continued. "I flew to the bunker, it was the first place I thought of. And I thought Chuck would come at any time to disqualify me, but he never did." He let out a sigh. "I should have come back. I'm sorry."

Dean wasn't sure if he could say anything that wouldn't raise Sam's suspicion, but Sam paved the way for him to answer Cass anyway. "Dude, why are you so worked up about the deer? We've crashed this car, how many times? Hunting with dad?"

Dean let out a ling breath. "I was worried that the deer was gone." He cast a glance at the angel in the backseat, looking guiltily at his shoes. 

"Dean, the deer is gone. It has been. Why are you so mad?" Sam said with an eye roll.

Dean locked eyes with Cass through the mirror again, letting the silence go on long enough for Cass to look back at him. "I'm not mad. Really I'm not."

"You sure sound mad." Sam said, lighter this time, openly making fun of his brother. It made Dean laugh, which made Castiel laugh in turn.

They rode the rest of the ride in silence, but Dean couldn't help but smile at the hand that rested on his shoulder for the entire duration of the journey until they arrived at Bobby's house that evening. A hand that promised not to go anywhere.

-

"I'm sorry, a demon did what now?!"

Bobby was always gruff and angry, and he was especially so as Dean explained what happened on their hunt.

"That's the thing, I don't think it was a demon! They don't have healing powers as far as we know."

"Okay, what major crap pile did you two idjits step in?" Bobby had one hand on his hip and the other clutching his beer bottle, just as surly and ill-tempered as Dean recalled so joyfully.

"I don't know Bobby, but I want to."

The man rolled his eyes, albeit fondly, at the young Winchester. Dean was sure he was Bobby's favorite, should he ever be forced to pick, but that old man had one hell of a soft spot for the younger Winchester, and no one currently in that room, visible or not, could disagree. "Alright fine, let's hit the books then."

"Why don't you start with magical flashers?" Dean wiggled his eyebrows at his younger brother who punched him in the arm.

"Magical what nows?"

"Dean's being an ass, but it's because the man was wearing a trenchcoat."

"Okay anything else I should know about his clothing choices?" Bobby responded wryly.

"Sammy's really into fashion because it's the only thing he noticed about the guy."

"Really now?" An evil smile crept onto the old hunter's face.

"Oh yeah, Sammy tell him about how much you loved his trenchcoat and his suit."

"Oh a suit? Real spiffy guy we got here huh?" Bobby was enjoying this more and more.

"Yeah, fully equipped with the black slacks and the navy blue tie!" Dean started laughing even more as he heard Castiel laughing behind him.

"What was it you used to call me, a holy tax accountant of the Lord?" Cass asked with a gleam in his eyes. Dean turned to face the other hunters, who had noticed him turning around, but Dean remained clueless.

"A holy tax accountant, eh Sammy?" Sam just rolled his eyes at both the hunters and grabbed a book forcefully off of Bobby's desk, stomping into the kitchen. A small photo drifted to the floor by Bobby's feet.

"Well that was fun for me. I'll take these upstairs and get busy on the goose chase then." Dean said cheerfully, navigating Bobby's lore books and grabbing random ones. Considering he already knew what healed Sam, he wasn't planning on actually reading any, but he piled them up and trotted upstairs, his invisible angel in tow.

-

Bobby sighed as he saw Dean lying sprawled out on the bed, peacefully snoring. Bobby couldn't see the very trenchcoated figure they were searching for in his lore books, but he was in there too, wistfully looking out the window and glancing at Dean every few minutes. Okay, every few seconds. He told Dean he would fly to the bunker for the night, knowing how Dean felt about Cass watching him while he slept, but he flew back after a bit of time, enough to assume his friend was asleep. The truth was, he liked to watch over him while he slept, it made him feel better to know that he would be safe. If anything were to come his way, he would smite it down before Dean had time to wake from his dreams.

Castiel wasn't sure why he felt such peace and joy and a fluttering in his heart when he saw the man's body rise and fall with each breath, but he hoped Dean would sleep all night so that he could remain like this for as long as possible.

Bobby lumbered back down the stairs and sat behind his desk, watching Sam in the kitchen. Sam kept bouncing his knee and twitching all crazy like.

"Okay, spill."

"What?"

"I may have been born at night boy, but it wasn't last night. So get your ass over here and spill."

Sam bowed his head and carried the open lore book with him as he sat on the couch next to Bobby's desk, unaware of setting his foot on top of an old photograph. "It's something Dean said."

"Oh, we were just giving you a hard time. Didn't think you'd be so sensitive, princess." He paused, aware that this wasn't really the issue. "What is it he said?"

"He said he was a 'holy tax accountant'."

"Well, he did sound like one, a suit? Since when do demons possess some corner office bastards? And how many tax accountants are in rural West Virginia?"

"It isn't the tax accountant part, it was the holy part."

Bobby thought about that. It didn't make a lot of sense, he had to give him that. "I don't know, that might just be how Dean speaks. Besides, healing you is like a miracle right?"

"Yeah but holy? Why would he use 'holy' to describe what he insisted was a demon."

"Well that disappearing act you claim he pulled sounded like high level demon stuff. Actually sounds like a crossroads demon, those damn roaches."

"Well, I was reading in this book, and I was thinking, I know it sounds crazy, but what if it was an angel who healed me?"

Bobby raised a single eyebrow in disbelief. "An angel? Like a fat little baby with wings?"

Sam put on one of his best bitchfaces. "Ha ha, but that's my point Bobby, Dean said the same thing about angels a few weeks ago."

"Okay, and?"

"And, in this book it might make sense that an angel healed me. I mean, they can teleport like demons, but they use their wings, and they're said to have healing powers."

"Do they play you a little song on their harp to lull you to sleep? Or maybe, they're really into suits and trenchcoats."

"I'm serious Bobby!"

"Yeah so am I! An angel, Sam? That's your theory? Did you see any wings on this guy?"

"Well, no but I didn't get a good look at him. And what if their wings are invisible?"

"An invisible angel in a trenchcoat? Sam you got to hear yourself."

"Okay I know it sounds crazy, but I believe angels are real. So why wouldn't they help people, save people?"

Bobby ran a hand over his face. "Okay fine. It's a bad guess but it's something. But I don't understand what that has to do with your brother."

"He said 'holy' tax accountant. Holy, like an angel. And that day I told you about, the one where Dean had that anxiety attack or whatever in the diner? He was claiming that someone took his 'angel blade'. And look here!" Sam shoved the book into Bobby's face and pointed at the dagger in the illustrated angel's hand, and then pointed at the caption underneath, which read "depicted is the archangel Raphael, raining down the justice of God the Father, with his archangel blade".

"You think Dean stole a knife from an archangel?"

"Not exactly, but he's never referred to any of his knives as his 'angel blade' before. Come on, you know that's weird." Bobby just grunted in a defeated agreement as Sam went on. "And when we were in the car later that day, he asked if I believed in God and angels, and said that if he believed in angels, he'd think they were dicks."

"Sounds like Dean, Sam. I don't know if that really means anything though."

"I know it's thin, but Bobby you should have seen his face when he talked about angels. He seemed so angry, even after saying he didn't believe in them. Then he proceeded to say that there were exceptions. He told me that he had to believe not every inhuman thing is evil. While talking about something he didn't believe in."

"Alright, that is weird." Dean Winchester, defending anything inhuman was against the laws of nature. That was not the boy sleeping upstairs, he would go down screaming about how if angels were real they'd be just another monster. "But Sam, listen to yourself. So Dean was acting weird that day. But based on what you told me he did at that diner, I wouldn't bank on a single word he said afterwards. Sam, this is Dean we're talking about. You know how that boy feels about religion, hell, he's more like me. Dean Winchester don't believe in angels, boy. Maybe he's said some things you're seeing as a pattern, but I think it's just coincidence." He leaned forward and put his hand on Sam's arm. "I know you feel guilty about not seeing much of your brother when you were off to college, and I know that you're trying to play catch up, but let me remind you, he was in this damn house at least once a month, and he never muttered anything about no angels. If Dean believed an angel, or stole one of their weapons, don't you think you or I'd know it?"

Sam sighed. "Okay, you're probably right. It probably isn't an angel." He looked so dejected that Bobby almost felt guilty. "But there's something else."

"Sam-"

"No, seriously Bobby. Nothing about angels. I just, maybe I'm overreacting about that day at the diner, but I think Dean's lying to me about what happened when I got shot. Dean was in the room with me when it happened, I heard him call my name, and when I came to, and saw that figure standing over me, Dean was outside." He tried to remember all the details. "Now, I know my brother, and he'd have been by my side in an instant, worrying about me and getting all worked up, but he left me while I was unconscious-"

"Now Sam hold on a minute. He was probably making sure he got all the bastards."

"I know, and I'm not trying to condemn him Bobby, but you have to admit that doesn't sound like Dean. And it was something he said when you two were making fun of me, he said that he had a blue tie. I never told him that, I swear. So how else would he know, if he didn't see the man who healed me and left me in his hands?"

"Sam, a blue tie is pretty standard."

"But why didn't he say black? Or red? And it was dark blue, he said dark blue!"

"Sam, stop it! You sound crazy. I think you need to get some sleep."

"But Bobby-"

"No, I won't hear any more of it. If your brother lost you he'd be a wreck, so of course he'd be killing all the demons who hurt you. Your brother loves you more than anything in the whole damn world you idjit, so I think right now you need to stop questioning him, and get your ass to sleep." Giving him a pointed glare and waiting long enough to ensure Sam wasn't going to argue, he continued. "Now your brother is asleep upstairs so why don't you stay here on the couch. I'm going to bed, and you know that you're not thinking clearly right now." He sent him a stare, daring him to argue with him. Sam was a smart man who valued his life, so he didn't. 

Bobby felt a pang of guilt when he walked away from Sam. He hadn't been entirely honest, he did think Sam was right about how weird it was that Dean left him there. But Bobby didn't want Sam to go down that path, thinking Dean would ever leave him. The only reason Bobby could see Dean leaving his shot for dead brother was if he knew he was going to be fine. But Bobby didn't have a clue as to how that fit in with Sam's story, and it sure as hell wasn't "Dean's cozying up with fucking angels and not telling anybody".

Angels aren't real, he reminded himself firmly as he walked past Castiel, invisibly waving to him.

-

"Sam why don't you go in and get us some snacks for the road?" Dean asked as he pulled the Impala up to a gas pump. Sam rolled his eyes, knowing it wasn't a question but a request, but grumbled and did so anyway, knowing that it was a stupid thing to argue about.

Dean did that everytime they stopped for gas. He didn't even necessarily have something he wanted to say to Cass specifically, but he did appreciate having a minute in case he did find something he wanted to say.

Cass was sitting in the car, resting his chin on the open window, looking around. Dean felt his phone buzzing in his pocket and he lifted it, looked at the caller ID, then proceeded to put it back into his pocket and re-fixate on the pump.

Castiel knew too well who had been calling him. "You've been ignoring his calls all week, Dean." Cass pointed out. "I'd have thought you'd want to use this chance to see your father again."

"And say what, Cass? I don't even know how to behave around him. I remember him well, but the last time I did this, I was still the 'yes sir' and 'no sir' obedient son. There's no way I could fake that now, I'm not actually in my 20s anymore."

"I suppose I understand, my reunions with my father have been anything but desirable," Cass agreed. "But Sam will probably catch on that your father's been calling you. You won't continue to get lucky everytime."

Dean sighed and kicked at the ground. "I know, but I don't want to see him, Cass. I don't know how I can. And I don't want to repeat what happened last time anyway. It wasn't pretty."

"I understand." Cass nodded. "Just be careful, Sam's clearly been suspicious of you since we left Bobby's last week. I don't know what it was you said, but he's convinced something's not quite right."

"I know," Dean grumbled in return. "I don't like lying to him, but I feel like that's all I can do. If I want to play by Chuck's rules I can't tell him about you, it's a damn miracle he didn't see your face in West Virginia. I'm trying, and I'm doing it for Kevin, but it's real damn hard when I don't know what I'm doing, or how long I'm doing it for."

He felt Cass grab his arm and looked back down at the angel sitting in his car. "We will save him, Dean. And we'll do it together."

Dean smiled and almost unconsciously reached for Cass's hand on his arm and held it. "Thanks Cass."

-

"Dammit, you're not hearing me. I'm telling ya idjits how it is! We didn't take no damn picture!"

"Bobby slow down, what the hell are you yelling about?" Dean hollered through Sam's phone. 

"How far out are you?"

"Only a few minutes Bobby." Sam answered.

"Then I'll show you!" And the phone clicked. Sam rolled his eyes over at Dean, the two sharing an exasperated look.

Sam, Dean, and Cass walked back into Bobby's house to see the old man pacing, clutching something in his hand. "Took you fools long enough!"

"Well, we're here now, so do you want to tell us what the hell is going on with you?"

"Look at this!" Bobby slammed down an old photograph onto the kitchen table. Dean stared at it and fell into a chair, shocked speechless. This action wasn't lost on Sam, but he too was distracted by trying to remember that picture. But he too felt ice in his veins as he stared at who was in the picture. 

"Bobby where the hell did you get this?" Dean asked, frightening himself with how dark his voice sounded. That picture wouldn't be taken for another three to four years, and it was burned pretty soon after it had been taken. Trying to keep suspicion away from himself, he added "who even are these people? And why are you in a wheelchair?"

"I don't know! I just found it on the floor, I think it fell off my desk. But why the hell am I in a wheelchair?" He let out a huff. "That one next to Sam is Ellen Harvelle, she's one tough lady, and I think, but I'm not entirely sure, that's her daughter Joanna, the one you've got your arm around. But I know you and your brother haven't met them, and I know I was never in a damn wheelchair! And I don't even recognize this guy!" Bobby slammed a finger down right on Cass's chest. Dean chanced a look at Cass, who gave him a similarly lost, helpless, and panicked glance.

This picture shouldn't exist. It only ever existed for a few days in a year that hadn't happened yet, and for Dean had happened a long while ago now.

"That's him." Sam's voice was scarily quiet. "That's him Bobby. That man, it's the man who healed me."

Neither Dean or Bobby had a response. Bobby gave Dean a questioning look which Dean matched, believably so since he couldn't comprehend what was happening. Sam was desperately searching for Castiel, who he didn't know, and now he was right there in a picture. Right next to him. How the hell could Dean explain this one? At least for now he didn't have to, because Bobby knew that Dean hadn't been to the Roadhouse yet, so how the hell would he know the Harvelles?

"Are you sure?" Bobby questioned.

"Yes I'm sure. I didn't get a good look at his face, but that's him. Dammit that's him, that's the guy!" Sam was getting more and more worked up, his confusion bubbling over and he slammed his fist on the table. "You saw him, didn't you Dean? You saw him in West Virginia. You lied to me!"

Bobby snatched the photo away from him, pressing it facing out against his chest. "That's enough Sam, you need to calm down."

Unfortunately, Sam noticed how defensive Bobby was being about the photo. "Bobby? Is there something else?" He took a step toward the man, almost intimidatingly. Dean stood to his feet, ready if he needed to intervene, shrmaring yet another desperate look with Cass. "Bobby, what's on the back of that photo?"

What was on the back of that photo? He was sure that maybe it had words before, but why would Bobby hide that from Sam? He was clearly hiding it because Sam was getting worked up and angry at Dean, but how did the back of the photo incriminate him?

"There's nothing, Sam. I think you need to sit down."

"Listen to him Sam." Dean warned, but his brother spun to face him, rage in his eyes.

"You've been lying to me Dean! You've been lying to me for over a month! Ever since that damn diner you've been lying to me! And now he's lying to me too!" He turned his angry gaze back on Bobby, tears welling in his eyes. "Stop lying to me! What's on the back of that photo?!"

Bobby took two steps back, but Sam nearly tackled him and grabbed the picture right out of his hands. He turned to both Bobby and Dean to read it out loud. 

"Dean, I thought it would only be fair to leave you a present too, so here's something sure to be rerun material… Chuck."

Dean froze. Of course Chuck had left it, of course he would leave something to screw with his emotions and create drama and tension. Of fucking course. 

"Chuck? CHUCK?!" Sam's anger was palpable in the air around him and he felt Cass's hand on his shoulder, firm and tight as though wanting to pull him away, or fly him away, but thankfully he didn't make a move. "That's the damn name you were shouting for outside the diner! You HAVE been lying to me! This whole time! Is this Chuck?!" He held up the paper and pointed towards the image of Castiel. "Did Chuck heal me?"

"No, definitely not." It came out quickly and instinctually, and dammit could Dean put his foot in his damn mouth. The tone it came out with was dry and annoyed, there was no way to ignore the way he responded to that.

Sam's eyebrows raised even higher and he looked even angrier. Bobby's phone rang across the room, but he didn't move to get it, almost scared that Sam would attack his brother. 

"Go ahead, answer it Bobby." Dean told him calmly, so Bobby walked over and sat behind his desk, answering his phone.

"You've been lying to me, haven't you?" Sam's voice was bitter and cold. "Something fishy happened at that diner, then again when you woke me up here a few weeks ago, again in West Virginia, and don't think I haven't noticed you keep getting calls from someone and you won't answer them, at least not that I've seen. You know who this person is don't you?" Sam spat out, pointing at the picture of Cass again, still not convinced that it wasn't "Chuck".

Dean was spiraling, he sent a desperate plea of a look to Cass behind him, who looked just as sad and scared, but it had been a mistake.

"Jesus christ Dean who the fuck do you keep looking at?! You've been doing that ever since we got here! You did it that night at Bobby's! What is it I'm not seeing huh? Is it Cass? You said 'he can't see you Cass' that night. Is it Chuck? Because you better start telling me the fucking truth!"

"Sam…" Bobby interrupted. 

"Don't you dare try to defend him now, Bobby! He probably did know the man in this photo, the one who healed me and I want to know exactly why he's been lying to me and-"

"Sam Winchester you will shut your fool mouth for one goddamn second!" Bobby roared, silencing the man who was hysterical only a second ago. He looked between Sam and Dean. "There is someone on the phone claiming to have your daddy, so you will shut up and listen!"

What? That couldn't be possible. Dean looked back at Cass, who looked utterly helpless, and then looked back to Bobby holding the phone, ignoring the glare he received from Sam who obviously noticed Dean looking at a ghost yet again. "Put it on speaker Bobby."

"Hello boys." The voice was raspy, maybe slightly southern, and very cruel. Dean knew that voice a little too well.

"Who the hell are you?" Sam shouted at the phone, coasting off his anger from before. Dean again looked at Cass and mouthed "Azazel", watching Castiel's face shift from helpless for angry.

"Aw, I see Sammy's just as mad as I expected. That's a good thing you know, means you're growing up big and strong!"

"Where's our dad?" Dean demanded. It was probably more like the 2006 Dean than anything else he'd said recently, but not out of devotion to his father. He felt guilty, this isn't what happened last time. Last time, John had been kidnapped, but it wasn't like this. And Dean didn't have the Colt because he hadn't even been looking for it this time around. He hadn't cared. Dammit, why didn't he care?

"He's here, he's unconscious, but he's here. So I would like you two to join me. Abandoned warehouse off of Bayview and Englisch, hope to see you boys soon!" And with that the line clicked.

"I'll take the Impala, Sam you ride with Bobby in the truck."

"Oh hell no, Dean, we are not-"

"Actually we are!" Dean snapped. "We are done listening to you yell and bitch at me when there's more important things at play, okay? Yes, I've been keeping things from you, but you're going to shut your pie-hole, get in Bobby's damn truck, and we're going to save Dad, and kill that yellow-eyed son of a bitch! Understand me?!"

That voice. It wasn't 2006 Dean Winchester who wanted to save his loving daddy. It was future Dean who held a grudge against his old man, but was sick and tired of playing these fucking games. He wouldn't do it anymore, he was failing. He wasn't able to keep Cass a secret, he wasn't able to cover for his mistakes, he wasn't even able to avoid his own father without something going wrong. And he would be damned if he screwed up his little brother anymore than he already had. He didn't have answers that Sam would want to hear, hell he didn't even have answers he'd believe. But he did have action, like he always had, except now he was more trained. He'd taken down the fucking devil, he'd killed Hitler. He could kill Azazel again like it was nothing. So his drill sergeant, Sam-Winchester-you-will-listen-to-me voice came out, and there wasn't much Sam could do except fume as Dean marched right out the door and into the Impala. He watched as the Impala drove off and he could have sworn that the passenger door opened and shut.

-

"Okay, Sam, you were right about there being something off about Dean." Bobby conceded after a long and silent car ride. They were right behind the Impala, and it made Sam angry to even look at it and see Dean's silhouette. 

"Gee you think?!"

"Don't get cute with me boy. I'm not saying what you did in my house was right."

"Why? He's been lying to me, Bobby. And he lied to you too, that photo was for him. He remembers that photo."

"That photo doesn't mean jack shit, Sam. You don't know either person next to you in it, so how could it be real?"

Sam slouched his shoulders, aware of how childish he looked. "Maybe it's from the future then."

"Goddammit Sam, the future? Seriously? You think your brother's a damn time traveler? You ain't making a lick of sense and you know it."

"I just want answers Bobby! I want him to stop lying."

"He's your brother. Brothers lie."

"That doesn't mean I should be okay with it."

"Sam, Dean is being an ass right now, keeping things from you, I'll hand that one to you, but he admitted he's been lying, so don't you think he has a reason? Maybe Cass and Chuck and that guy in the picture are bad and he doesn't want you involved in that."

"He left me alone with that man." Sam's voice was softer. "I believe that he knows him, and that he trusts him. There's no other way Dean would have left him alone with me."

"Well, that's a good thing son."

"I'm his brother. Whatever he's involved with, whoever that man was, or Chuck or Cass, he should trust me more than them, right?"

Bobby sighed, drumming his fingers on the wheel, seeing the Impala turn to park outside the warehouse they finally arrived at. "He knew it was the demon."

"What?"

"Over the phone, he never said who he was. I never said who it was. And usually I'd say that's a pretty easy guess to make, but with all this stuff you've been telling me? I think you have reason to doubt him. But there's one thing he reminded me of when he was yelling in my house. It doesn't matter what's changed or how much he's been lying, that's Dean Winchester in there. That is your older brother, the kid who raised you more than your daddy ever did. So you owe him a minute of patience."

"But he's family-"

"Family ain't supposed to make you feel good! They're supposed to make you miserable! That's why they're family! So you're going to stow your crap long enough to save your daddy and get the hell out!"

"Yes sir." Sam was still pissed as hell, but he loved Bobby, and begrudgingly, he loved Dean. So they got out of the truck and followed Dean inside.

-

Castiel had never seen Azazel, but he got the feeling he would be meeting him tonight. If all went well, Cass could just sit and watch, he wouldn't have to show himself to help them fight.

Dean insisted in the car that Cass not risk himself. He made him promise that he wouldn't show himself unless absolutely necessary, which meant he needed to harness all of the self-control he had in him.

When they got inside the large open room, it was easy to spot John Winchester, bound against one of many thick pipes going from the ground to the ceiling. Azazel and about six other demons were standing around the room in front of him. John was currently passed out, and it looked heavy.

"So nice of you to join us!" Azazel clapped his hands and flashed his yellow eyes. 

The entire ride there, Dean had been speculating why Azazel wanted to meet with them. He wasn't going to test the psychic kids yet, or tempt them with demon blood, he had to have known they didn't have the colt, so what was it that made him so eager to kidnap their dad? For a little chat? Some foreshadowing of his greater plan? After all if he just wanted to kill Dean and John Winchester, he would have done that the first time around, so why was this time so different?

"Let our dad go." Dean's voice came out leveled, which he was pretty proud of after being a little rattled to see his long dead father again.

"Hmm, Johnny can't come to the phone right now, leave a message at the painful scream."

"If you killed him I swear to god-"

"Ah, that's the man of the hour, isn't it?" Sam and Dean just blinked at him, a little confused. 

Castiel tapped Dean's shoulder and pointed to John as he flew to the other side of the room, checking if he was alive. In another second he was back by Dean's side, standing incredibly close to him in a protective move. "He's alive, and he will be fine."

"Who's the man of the hour jackass?" Bobby asked, annoyed with the silence and foreboding nature of this run in.

"Why, God of course! But then again, that's not what he's going by these days, is it?"

Sam, putting his anger at Dean aside for the time being, shot his brother a confused glance, which Dean reciprocated. Azazel was right of course, but why the hell was he talking about God?

"What the hell are you talking about?" Sam barked. Azazel just laughed.

"Sorry Sammy. I've been wanting to meet you for some time, but this isn't about my plans for you. The name's Azazel, by the way." He did a mock bow. Dean forgot that they didn't know his name before.

"Why don't you skip the small talk?" Bobby growled.

"Well that's rude, even for you." Azazel pretended to be offended. "I called this meeting, rather spontaneous of me, I know, because someone at the Singer residence has been talking to God."

Dean couldn't feel his legs. How the hell did he know that? How the hell were they getting out of this? He didn't need to look at his angel to know he was feeling the same.

"You think we're big on praying?" Bobby said with a roll of his eyes.

"Not praying, my friend, no, one of you had God over for tea." Azazel laughed. "I wouldn't have noticed you praying, but God sitting in your living room, well that's quite a stir. I could feel him, I'm just not sure who for. So what was it he wanted huh? And which one of you gets the privilege to see him huh?" Azazel was walking right in front of their faces. "Was it you old man?" He flicked his wrist and sent Bobby flying, hitting the wall and sliding down. Dean watched him panicked, but was relieved to see Cass by his side immediately, nodding at Dean to ensure he was okay. "Maybe it was Sammy, huh?" This time he threw Sam at one of the pipes running from the ground to the ceiling. Azazel curled his fist around and Sam started to have a hard time breathing.

"Enough! Let him go! I'm the one he came to talk to!" Dean shouted at the peril in his brother's face.

"Dean…" Castiel's voice rang as a warning but Dean ignored him.

"Why, did I hear that right? Dean Winchester is besties with God?"

"Trust me, we aren't friends. And talking to him isn't a privilege."

"I hear that." Azazel sighed dramatically before flicking his wrist and sending Dean hurtling against another pipe. He could barely hear as Cass and Bobby shouted his name at the same time, his head pounding from the hit. "So how was it, seeing Chuck? That is what he's calling himself these days, right?"

Dean couldn't help but glance at Sam's shocked look. "Yeah, he's not exactly what I expected."

"But he's talking to you for a reason right? So, you know, I figure maybe, just maybe, it would be in my best interest to kill you." Azazel made another fist and Dean could feel his lungs shrinking. He let out a gasp of pain as Azazel twisted everything inside of him.

In an instant, Cass was kneeling on the ground beside him, glaring furiously at the demon, but Dean just grabbed onto his arm and shook his head no. Castiel gripped him back, trying to do his best to steady him while Azazel watched him writhe in pain. Castiel's protective nature made him fume and a bit of his power began leaking to the warehouse. The lightbulbs above started shattering, and Azazel paused his torture to look around.

"Did you bring some backup boys?" He sounded intrigued, but Dean used the moment to grab his angel blade and toss it to Sam, knowing he didn't stand a chance trying to kill Azazel in his current state. Azazel's eyes followed the blade as it clattered on the floor a few feet from Sam, who was eyeing it curiously. "Now Dean, wherever did you get an angel blade?"

Angel blade? God? Chuck? Everything was starting to line up for Sam, but he hadn't the slightest clue how to connect them. To be fair, he was missing over a decade of context.

"Get it to Sam." Dean's voice was small and weak, and Cass didn't want to leave his side, but he had a hard time saying no to him either.

"The surprises just keep coming. God grants you a personal meet and greet and you've got divine weapons? Dean Winchester you are just begging me to kill you."

At that line, Sam struggled against the force holding him back, desperate to get this demon away from his brother.

He choked on his breath when he saw the angel blade levitate in the air and make its way over to him, handle facing as though there was someone standing above him, handing it to him. He grabbed it, but Azazel had been watching.

"You've got someone hiding in here huh? That's not fair play Dean! But I suppose…" he crouched down to be more level with Dean and cupped his face in his hands. "I don't play fair either."

A sickening crunch came as Azazel snapped Dean Winchester's neck.

Anguished and pained screams came from both Bobby and Sam, but they were drowned out by a screeching sound much louder, a ringing and intensity of power building, breaking every window in the factory.

A man appeared from almost nowhere, and he stood menacingly, putting out one arm and throwing back every demon in the room. His eyes glowed blue and the wall behind him was hit with two large shadows, shadows of invisible wings that were spreading out behind him.

It was unmistakably the man in the trenchcoat, still wearing that same trenchcoat. The man in the photo, the man who had healed him back in West Virginia. A man with wings and glowing eyes.

He ran through all the demons who got in his way as he made a straight line toward Azazel. With a placing of his palm on their foreheads he was able to smite every single one. Sam watched as a bright light came from their eyes and mouths, seeming to burn them away, and their bodies would fall dead to the floor.

"Well, I suppose that's my cue to leave. It's been lovely seeing you all, but you can't kill me. And I can't kill you. Raincheck?" Azazel offered, seeming disinterested, and he vanished, leaving only the humans in the room.

Sam was already by his brother, and there was no doubt about it, he was dead. His neck was grossly twisted and his eyes were open. He shook his brother and he still didn't move.

"Dean! Dean please, no, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry we were fighting, but you've got to get up! I can't do this hunting thing without you! I don't want to do it without you!" Sam pleaded with his brother. Right now he didn't care about the lying, he didn't care about Azazel claiming he met with God, he just wanted his brother to wake up.

He glanced up at the mysterious man who had healed him once before. Though he had killed all those demons, Sam wasn't sure what to make of him. He was powerful and terrifying.

"You're an angel?" Sam asked, tears in his eyes, drawing Castiel's attention. The blue light in his eyes faded out as he was drawn back from his rage. "You healed me right? So heal him! Heal my brother, please, I'm begging you!"

He didn't have to try hard. The angel fell to his knees beside his friend, the man he loved more than anything in the world and put his hand over his neck. The bones shifted back into place, but Dean still lay there, lifeless, eyes open.

"No. No, Dean, you can't do this to me now. Dean!" Sam heard the angel's deep gritty voice for the first time. The man's face showed softness, but his power had shown anything but. Sam was a little surprised to see how worked up the divine being was getting at his brother's death. "Dean I can't heal you if you're dead, but you are not dying, do you understand me?!" Though he was barking orders at him, he pulled him into his lap, cradling his entire body in his arms.

Sam watched in shock and awe, feeling Bobby's hand on his shoulder, also surprised, as the angel curled himself around Dean and began to cry.

"Dean you can't do this. You don't die here that's not how this goes." The angel's voice was broken and cut between sobs. He could feel Dean's dying warmth against him and he remembered a time that Dean fell asleep in his truck and Castiel had reached out and moved him while he was sleeping so that he'd be leaned up against Cass. He remembered pulling him closer and running his fingers through his hair, like he was doing now.

His chest ached. He felt this tight, infuriating pain in his center that he'd never felt before. Sam and Bobby had given their shock and confusion up for their grief and they joined him in their crying.

Cass held him tighter and brought him up closer to himself, as though he could squeeze life back into him. 

Castiel hated a lot of human emotions he had begun experiencing. He never regretted the feelings he felt that were akin to his own free will choices, but he hated the bad feelings.

This was a bad feeling. This was a horrible gut feeling, the kind of feeling like someone clawed their way through his skin and ripped out his heart. The kind of feeling where he'd prefer that literal metaphor to what was happening.

"Typical John Winchester, misses all the good bits." All three men huddled around Dean turned around to see a short man, dressed in a suit with a well-trimmed beard. He was staring at their still unconscious father. "Got to say, I was not expecting this ending. I like it though!"

Sam watched as the angel looked up from the man he held in his arms. His eyes were red and puffy, tears streaming down his face, but he had never such bitterness and hostility before. This was some divine being and he was pissed.

"Heal him." The angel's low gravelly voice commanded. "Chuck, we played your stupid little game, now heal him!" He was shouting, red hot rage coating every breath.

Chuck. Sam shuddered. The Chuck Dean called out for at the diner, the Chuck who left Dean that photo. The Chuck who Azazel called God. Holy shit.

"Actually, Castiel, you haven't been playing right. I gave you one rule, that you already broke once. My one rule, what was it? Don't show yourself to Bobby or Sam. It was simple, meant to add intrigue. Come on Cass, it's been a little fun, right?" Chuck, holy shit GOD, didn't seem to be feeling the emotion in the room, and he certainly wasn't as intimidated by the angel as Sam and Bobby were, but then again, he was God.

But Cass, he called the angel Cass. The Cass Dean was looking for at the diner, the Cass he claimed Sam couldn't see at Bobby's house, the man who healed him in West Virginia, the man in the photo who Sam had his arm around.

Chuck was God, Cass was an angel, and Dean was just hanging around both of them. Based on Dean's interaction with Azazel he wasn't a fan of God, but based on this angel's overwhelming grief, Cass had been a fan of him.

"This is not fun. Watching Dean Winchester die is not fun. You're going to bring him back. Bring him back!" Cass stood up, still cradling Dean and bringing him up with him in a bridal carry. Sam could see his knuckles were white from grabbing on to Dean so tightly.

"Castiel…" Chuck sighed, looking like he pitied him. "Maybe I should just send you back to the bunker. Back home, without Dean."

"There is no home without Dean." It was the first sentence that hadn't come out with tears, it came out with his intimidating power and honesty.

Chuck looked a bit surprised. "That's a good line. I should write that down." He rocked on the balls of his feet. "This is so good! The drama, the twists! First, Dean having to deal with his confusion, back in time, trying to remember what happened the first go around! His attempt to get my attention by resolving a case AND warning Harry about the death of Corbett, leaving it open to new possibilities? Thrilling! And then, Dean begins to hit lows as he continues solving cases he's already solved, feeling more and more alone and upset, and then BAM!" Chuck made a grand movement with his arms. "I show up with the angel Castiel, here to help him on his way! The emotions, that adorable reunion! I even gave you your wings so that you could be as happy as possible.

"But there's more, I left a little surprise, the photograph you all took with the Harvelles. Such a sweet picture, and heartbreaking too. So naturally I arranged it so that you guys would frustratingly not notice it for weeks to up the suspense, and by the time you find it, it will add fuel to the fire that is Sam's temper. Why do you think I gave you that rule, Castiel? That one rule?"

Another look of anger passed over Cass's face with realization. "You wanted me to break it. You wanted me to break that rule, you made sure that Sam got shot so that I would have to show myself to heal him. Why?"

"Because, I needed this moment. I needed Sam to get so angry at Dean that he finally snapped. I made sure he got shot so he could see you, so that he could start being more suspicious of his brother. I knew Dean couldn't explain that away, and with time Sam's frustration would only grow. Then when he saw that photo, addressed to Dean from yours truly, his frustration and impatience would tip over into an all out screaming match! I wasn't expecting Azazel to come and ruin the fun, but it did make for a fun twist ending."

"You call my brother dying a twist ending?" Sam finally stood up. "You're God, you're supposed to be loving and protect people."

"Ugh, I don't like you, past Sam." Chuck pointed out. "You're boring, the psychic stuff? Just plain weird man. I don't know where I thought I was going with that. Look, your part is over okay? So sit down and shut up." And Sam did exactly that, against his will. Bobby too couldn't open his mouth to speak.

"Come on Cass, you have to admit, this is good content!"

"You killed Dean!" Cass's voice couldn't hold its strength any longer as he cast one look at the man he was clinging onto and saw his open, glossy eyes. "Please, bring him back. Please, I can't… I can't go back without him."

"See this is what I love! Watching this! You love him, don't you Castiel?" Chuck tapped his foot expectantly. "Well come on, I want to hear you say it. You're in love with Dean Winchester. Say it."

"Screw you." He could barely say those two words without full on sobbing again.

"You know the icing on the cake here, and this might be a spoiler alert for you, but he loves you too. In the same way. And now it's going to hurt even more, because now you know he loved you, Castiel. Dean Winchester loved you and you couldn't save him and now, he's dead, and you can't bring him back."

Chuck's words should have made him angry, it should have made him scream and lash out, but it only served to make his legs weak with an overwhelming human feeling of pain and grief. He fell to his knees and finally set Dean down in front of him. "Please. Just… please." It was perhaps the most human he'd ever sounded. Definitely the most human he'd ever felt.

Sam was baffled. Not that his brother was in love with a man, though he certainly hadn't expected it, it didn't seem to be wrong, but rather that his brother loved someone so deeply, a goddamn angel, and he was loved back. Sam only ever wanted Dean to be happy with whatever life he had, and something told him that this Dean Winchester, whoever he may be or, more accurately, from whenever he may come, had a chance at that happiness. This angel, Castiel, Cass, whatever his name really was, cared about Dean. In a way that he had never seen anyone care about him, not even his father and embarrassingly so, not even him. But this Castiel, his world had just fallen around him and he was utterly destroyed.

Chuck sighed loudly. "You know the thing about Dean Winchester that I like, sorry, liked, so much? Was his love for TV and movies. Did you like when he would make you watch them with him? You know, the two of you on that bed, listening while he talked over every scene?"

Sam watched as Cass put his hand over his stomach, like he was going to double over in pain or throw up. He guessed that God was hitting him with a rough subject.

"Well, the thing about Dean is that he is the king of reruns. So when he was so desperate to help Kevin, I saw an opportunity. A time travel episode! How fun would that be! But I think I've milked all I can. Long lost reunions with loved ones, check, special guest stars, check, slipping up and accidentally leaving hints that something fishy is going on, check, confrontation, drama, suspense, romance, check, check, check, and surprisingly check! But there's not much left to do. Dean's dead, and sure, maybe I could follow through with a revenge subplot, but that's very season 1 and 2, you know? The first time through. Nah, I'm okay missing out on that. But here's the thing about reruns, you always know what's going to happen next, so you don't need to worry about something bad happening to a character, because you already know it's going to work out for them in the end. So let's change the channel, shall we?"

He reached up and snapped his fingers.

-

Dean woke up taking in a desperate breath of air. He jumped to his feet looking around wildly, before his eyes met Chuck's sitting in a chair at a table in the bunker, arms folded across his chest, and his feet propped up on the table.

"Sam's not home, he's out looking for you. Has been for over a month."

"I was dead."

"Wow, great deduction. Yes Dean, you were dead. That happens a lot. Do you remember what happened?"

"I was in 2006. For over a month."

"Yeah, duh, I meant after you died."

"Why would I…" but he did remember. He was dead, but he remembered. He remembered Sam shaking him and Cass smiting the demons and then… "what did you do with him?!" Dean demanded.

"Who, Castiel? He's fine, I just dropped him where I took him from. He'll be back soon enough once he realizes I let him keep his little present. But it might take him a few hours."

Dean couldn't stand to see that look on his face, Cass's eyes staring down at him, crying, begging him to be okay, holding him in his lap, just trying to protect him. Yelling at his father to heal Dean, Chuck saying some other… things…

"I swear, if you hurt him at all-"

"You'll what, Dean? Don't you think threatening to kill me is getting old? Castiel is fine. He's better than fine, he has his wings back. He's at full strength for the first time in years. And don't worry, it wasn't all for nothing. I mean, you got the drama and everything but I haven't forgotten what you truly wanted. Kevin Tran's soul is in heaven."

"Why should I believe you?"

Chuck snapped his fingers and Dean found himself in an auditorium, watching Kevin dance around with Channing, who kept protesting by saying they weren't allowed to be in here, but they were just laughing and running around. "Believe me or not Dean, but this is Kevin's heaven. He had never been happier than this day." 

He snapped his fingers again and they were back in the bunker. "I know you hate me Dean, but I gave you a lot. You got to see Bobby again, for one. Come on, I could have sent you back to worse times in your life."

"You could have sent Kevin to heaven in the first place."

"Look, Dean. You've been great, but I've got other shows. Other reruns planned. I think I'll take a break from the Winchesters and the angels for a while. Not that you weren't great, you really were, but reruns get old after a while. I'll see you around, Dean."

"Wait, what happened to Bobby and Sam?"

"Oh, I wiped their memories. I let them keep the hunting, but I figured God and the angels was probably too much, and sending 2006 Dean back in his body might be a little complicated if they're telling him he's talked to God. They won't be any the wiser. But you might want to check up on some of your changes there." And with that, he vanished.

-

Dean realized he should probably call Sam, tell him he was home. But as he was scrolling through his contacts he stopped when he saw the name Ed Zeddmore.

Chuck told him to check up on his changes, and he really didn't change anything else considering Chuck wiped their memories. So he dialed the phone.

"Dean Winchester, is that you?"

"Hey Ed, long time."

"I'll bet. How's it going?"

"Good, I just called because, well, this might be a weird question to ask-"

"Oh my god it's you isn't it? Time finally caught up to the time traveler!"

"Oh thank god I didn't know how to explain this one. Listen I'm sorry for lying."

"About what? You didn't lie to me about anything. Well, okay, maybe a little, but that's just because you changed history."

"I don't understand."

"You said that our show would be crazy popular. It was. You said we'd get on Ellen, and we did. The only thing that changed was the married bit because, well probably because we saved Corbett."

"You did? That's great! So how did that… oh my god, you married Corbett didn't you?"

"Yeah, been married for a couple of years. You were at our wedding, I'll send you the pictures."

"I'd appreciate it, I get the feeling I won't remember it, but I'm glad you're happy, and I'm glad Corbett's alive."

"Never forget Dean Winchester, you save lives. I will always be grateful for that."

A fluttering noise distracted Dean from the phone and he looked up to see Cass standing at the top of the stairs, staring at him.

"No problem Ed, but listen, I got to go. Send me those pictures!" And with that he clicked off the phone.

When he was saying goodbye he heard a thundering of footsteps practically throwing themselves down the stairs, and by the time Dean had set the phone down, his angel had crossed the room and practically jumped on top of him into a hug, which Dean accepted with just as much force and vigor.

Cass was completely wrapped around him, and Dean could hear and feel him crying into his shoulder. He put his hand through the angel's hair and held his head, tears streaming down his own face, unable to control his emotions. 

He could feel Castiel pull him in tighter, and he happily let him. "Dean I thought, I mean, I didn't know, you were, and I…"

"I love you, Cass." He surprised himself by saying it so freely. Maybe it was easier because Cass's face was buried in his shoulder, or maybe it was because he basically had God confirm that it went both ways, but the second he said it he felt warmth and peace flood through him, like there was a piece of him that always needed to say it.

He felt Cass's shaking stop, only to get more intense as he sobbed harder and held on tighter. He had lost Dean Winchester, thought the world was crumbling, and now he had him in his arms and he knew that he loved him, it was more than enough to overwhelm him and make him more terrified than he had been. "I failed you, I couldn't save you." He said between cries, surprised at his own newfound ability to feel things as deeply as he was.

Dean laughed a bit in the embrace, resting his head on top of Cass's and running his hand through his hair the way the angel had for him in the truck. "I'm not a damsel in distress Cass, and if you had shown yourself any earlier it could have been you, and I'd rather die than watch that happen."

"Well technically you did die." God, Dean had never felt more happy to hear Cass's dry observations and he just started laughing, still refusing to let go. Cass started laughing too, just holding onto him for as long as he could. The way Dean pressed a kiss to his head didn't go unnoticed.

"I love you," was all Cass could say when they finally pulled away from each other. Dean thought it might be weird when he finally was making eye contact with him, but it only made it sound better.

Dean found himself caught off guard when the angel pressed a kiss onto his lips. He hadn't expected Cass to be so emotional in the first place, but this was definitely new. So new in fact that Dean hadn't even realized he hadn't kissed him back until Cass pulled away, looking scared and embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" but that was all he could say before Dean grabbed him by the collar of his trenchcoat and pulled him into a kiss, more than anything Castiel had experienced before. It meant everything, and every guilt and embarrassment Castiel had from the last twelve years just melted away as Dean kept one hand on his back and the other in his hair. All of Dean's fears of being close to someone disappeared as Cass wrapped his arms around his neck.

"Wow, Cass, did you learn that from the pizza man?"

"Shut up Dean." Cass asserted before dragging him closer and falling into another kiss, where Dean happily obliged.

"I've been wanting to do that since Purgatory." Dean admitted.

Cass raised a hand to the back of his neck, slightly worried about what he was going to say. "I've wanted to do that since I raised you from hell." He sent Dean a nervous look, hoping that he hadn't just driven him away. But Dean's face was unreadable.

He didn't have to wait long before he got his response, as Dean literally lifted him up into another kiss, more desperate and loving the last two. Cass let himself be lifted in the air as Dean pressed him close to him, forcing Cass to wrap his legs around him as Dean carried him to the couch.

After about twenty minutes of making out on the couch they ended up curled next to each other, drinking in the situation ahead of them, the life they could have now. Dean was practically in Cass's lap, his head lying on Cass's chest while he played with his hair mindlessly.

"You know, I hate Chuck for what he did, but I'm glad you were there with me, even though I know the ending part wasn't great."

Castiel bent down and kissed Dean's forehead. "I hate what he did to you, but I would sit through it a thousand times again if I had to, just to be there for you."

"And you were, Cass. You're always there for me. Always. Never forget that."

Cass smiled down on him, happier than he had been in a long time. He never understood before why he moved Dean in the truck, he never knew why he wanted Dean to fall asleep on him so much, not until he watched him die. He had wanted to be there for Dean Winchester ever since he raised him from Hell, and now seeing Dean smiling, lying on top of him, he wasn't just safe, he was his. And that was all Castiel wanted, it made every loss and pain worth it, if this was the ending.

"I just wish I hadn't left that photo at Bobby's." Dean muttered. Cass frowned, seeing Dean going back to being upset, before he realized he could solve that.

He reached into his coat. "This one?" Dean sat up, but proceeded to throw his legs on top of Cass's lap anyway as he took the photo. He always wished they'd never burned it, no matter how heartbroken it might have made them at the time.

He threw his arms around Cass once again and rested his head in the crook of his neck. "Thank you." He said softly as Cass began to stroke his hair. "You don't know what this means to me. What you mean to me."

The couch smelled like whiskey and gasoline. Cass pressed his forehead onto Dean's. Cass smelled like home.

And boy, did Sam have a lot of jokes to choose from now.


End file.
